Perfectly Reflected by S. C. Ransom

we walked along with our amulets together. We went along Fleet Street towards the huge gothic building that held the High Court. Opposite was a long line of banks.
    “Oh, Callum, hang on for a moment; I need to take some cash out.” One bank had a row of ATMs outside. I got into the shortest queue and was quickly at the front of the line. I put my card in the slot and punched in my PIN and my request for cash. Nothing happened, and then the machine flashed an error message at me. I frowned. It seemed unlikely that there was a problem; they must have made a mistake. I tried again. The same message popped up: You have insufficient funds for this transaction . I knew it was wrong; the account held all my money, all the savings for buying my car, all my babysitting takings, everything. I quickly pressed the button to ask for a mini-statement. The machine finally spat out a small piece of paper, then returned my card.
    I looked at the statement with a sinking feeling in my stomach. My bank account had been wiped clean. 

Bank Robber
    Not a penny was left. I became aware of the queue of people behind me pressing to get to the machine, and at the same time Callum’s voice, getting more urgent.
    “Alex, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
    I mumbled an apology to the guy behind me then stumbled to the side of the pavement, out of the way. “It’s all gone,” I whispered, holding up the mouthpiece. “All my money, everything. Look!” I lifted up the statement as if I was reading it, giving Callum the chance to scan it over my shoulder before I buried my head in my hands. I couldn’t believe that my mystery tormentor had found another way to get to me.
    From what seemed to be a great distance I could hear a voice in my head, calling me anxiously. “Alex! Can you hear me? We have to keep calm, work this out.”
    I opened my eyes and found that I was slumped on the steps outside the door to the bank, with my fists pressed against my forehead. “Alex?” The voice was now gentle, with a hint of relief. “Come on, you need to move. You’re attracting attention.” I lifted my head and looked around. Several people were staring at me, and across the road a women standing next to a policeman was pointing in my direction. I levered myself upright, muttering to the little crowd, “I’m all right, just felt a little dizzy.” I took adeep breath and started to walk down the Strand. Callum quickly caught up.
    “Are you OK? For a second there you went a bit weird.”
    “I’m fine. Well, not fine, I guess. This is so unfair!” I couldn’t stop the outburst any more than I could stop the tears that suddenly appeared. I walked as quickly as I could, brushing past the dawdling tourists who cluttered the pavements. I dived into the courtyard of Somerset House trying to find somewhere private, but it was full of families enjoying the fountains. I knew that if I went through the building at the end I could get to the river terrace. I couldn’t trust myself to speak, and Callum was obviously waiting until I stopped moving. He kept up with me though; I could feel the comforting tingle in my arm. I practically ran through the cool marble entrance hall and out of the door back into the bright sunshine. The river terrace was busy, with most of the tables taken up with people eating sandwiches and poring over maps and guidebooks. But the east end was practically empty. It had no tables and was occupied only by a few kids running around. I walked quickly to the far end, where I could see St Paul’s in the distance, towering over the local office blocks.
    By then the tears were well on their way, streaming down my face. I reached the stone balustrade and sank down in the corner, pulling my knees in tight, overwhelmed by the problems I was facing. Callum was there, stroking my hair in as soothing a way as he could manage, trying to make me feel better as usual.
    I realised I was being unfair. He lived in a world of misery and grief, yet