Doris watched the young banker sift through the brown expandable file in which she kept her entire financial history. Periodically, he would stop, his head c****d to the side, and slide a piece of paper half-way from its slot. Each time, after a cursory examination of whatever document grabbed his attention, he would drop it back into the folder. Not once had he removed any one of her financials all the way from the folder, and this gave Doris the distinct impression he was examining the folder only as a courtesy. Instead, as he leafed through her records, Doris became increasingly convinced the banker"s computer had reduced her entire life to the single page lying face down and undisturbed atop the gleaming black printer on the credenza.
It was a scene she had already lived out during a
