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With bulging pockets and a fat purse, his feet tapped the floor with musical rhythm.
Everything seemed cheap and affordable.
The eyes reluctant to even glance at the expensive store in the mall were now searching for it.
The sprightly feet excited to reach there quickly.
The gates were however still closed.
‘What time will you open,’ he asked?
‘I got loads of money to spend,’ he announced, gesturing at his pockets and purse, unusually swelled and bulging.
’10 minutes’ came the reply.
‘Is he joking, or is it for real,’ she thought while staring at the unusual visitor.
‘Let me grab a coffee then,’ he shouted and turned back towards the café on the ground floor.
She continued staring for some time before getting busy with her own work.
He was on the second floor; the escalators were closer than the elevator.
But he still took the escalators.
His hands touched the cold railing of the slow-moving stairway as it suddenly picked up speed. It jerked him back once before he held on to the handles tightly to maintain balance.
He was on the first floor now and walked a few metres before getting onto the second one.
The second escalator behaved more benevolently, taking him to the ground floor with no jerk or awkward movement.
‘A coffee, please,’ he asked while standing behind the counter, the aroma of fresh grounded beans floated in the air.
A few clicks and clacks later, his take away glass stared back at him.
‘2 dollars,’ the lady behind the counter declared.
The purse in his hands was swollen with currency, and he picked out a bill, placed it on the counter and spoke proudly;
‘Keep the change.’
He spoke and left immediately.
She looked at the bill closely.
Instead of Secretary Hamilton, Spiderman adorned that space on 10 dollars.
‘Excuse me………’ she shouted as one of the guards turned in.
‘He gave me fake currency,’ she screamed, displaying the Spiderman bill she was given to the security personnel.
‘Who,’ he asked loudly.
She pointed the finger at the man, lazily walking towards the escalators again.
Running behind the man, he caught him from the back and demanded him to return to the café and make the payment.
He appeared hassled and offered 10 dollars to him too.
‘That’s fake money,’ the guard shouted.
‘Take more,’ he replied nonchalantly.
‘Take this also,’ he suddenly pulled out even more money from his pocket and offered it to the sentinel.
The guard was bewildered, unable to comprehend what to do now and how to manage him.
Suddenly, two people ran inside, checking for a man who ran away from the mental asylum.
He also took away all the dummy notes of a kid, a spiderman fan on the way.
Everyone pointed at the guy wrestling with the guard.
As they took him away, the girl at the café came running out;
‘I am sorry, I forgot to give you something,’ she shouted and offered a box to him.
His eyes lighted up as he opened the small box while flanked by two huge burly men.
A large chocolate cookie and an action figurine of spiderman lay alongside each other inside the box.
‘I should have given this with the coffee; I am sorry,’ she explained, as he continued to turn around to look at her, as they dragged him forward.
Her eyes and feet refused to move as she too continued staring at him; the 10-dollar Spiderman bill still stuck on her hands. The moist eyes regretted her call to the guard now.