Chapter 5
Quiberon
I have a bank account, a bank card and a four-digit PIN, and I can't take out ten euros.
The adviser at the branch is my age, with a low bun and perfect nails. She hears me out to the very end. That's already more than the others did.
“Some identification, madam.”
“I've told you. It was taken from me.”
The rest is free.
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