Lion Head Mesa My bank account is a shoebox in the ground.

sorry! 'scuse me!! the child carried a bundle of something neatly tucked in to her teeth, winding hastily through a throng of older fellahin; ducking, weaving, nearly dropping whatever it was —
i'll be right there miss tee, nearly stomping on someone's foot; wheeling around sayf as he came striding down the hall, then ducking in to one of the alcoves.
nazli drops the bundle to the bedspread and sighs, struggling to catch her breath. the bolt of fur unravels where she's dropped it. inside is a bundle of partially crushed flowers, some dusty red pebbles, and what looks to be a bird's dried foot.
she barely had time to shake the sand from her coat before someone popped up behind her in the doorway, calling her name. she was late for lessons and all she had to show for it was this pile of junk, oh boy.