Mr. Dale G. Clark, retired interior designer and current Berkeley eccentric, could be heard delicately stepping on the marble floor in the wooden clogs he wore every day. Not what we called a High Value Customer at Strawberry Creek Bank, as his accounts totaled only a couple thousand, he was a regular whose presence was welcomed because it meant break time for the lucky teller who assisted him. On this particular day it was me - only I wish it hadn't been. "Good afternoon, Mr. Clark," I sang as I locked my station drawers and computer. "Hello there, Miss Christina. I'd like to go to my safe deposit box, please." "Of course, Mr. Clark." Our shoes clicked on the lobby floor - his clogs , my sensible work heels - until we reached the grand flight of stairs that ended in the vault room. Strawberry Creek Bank, Berkeley Main - established in 1910 - actually housed four vaults. Each one in the basement, two for business use, and two for customer us
In the game of Lotería we're each destined the cards that decide our fate as players. The following is a collection of short stories, each inspired by a particular Loteria card.