The air was still and dry and the distinct smell of thriving mold erupted from her clothes. It clashed with the fresh aroma of coconut oil and clothing iron burnt satin fabric smell, all at once. You had to give it to her, the top was pure white and contrasted with the flushed faded metal costume jewelry that had lost all it's stones and luster. Her head held up high she smiled, without a care in the world. I smiled back and then she told me to write the amount I wanted. The venue morphed into a bank and in my hand a check. I wrote down ten billion and she smiled back at me. This skinny dark grandma that did not wrinkle one bit. Instead she looked like she dried up and stayed fit. I met her yesterday and helped her with her transport fare, the bus driver dropped her off at a wrong bus stop and I wondered how she would cope. She told me to relax and keep working towards it all. I wanted to ask her to be specific, to tell me which of the skills I was hoping would work. Instead I wake up.
