The fingers played gracefully on the keys. My eyes rolled following the clicks. Porcelain, long fingers, extended by vinous painted nails. The forefingers ornamented with bright henna. “Name?” Her voice pinched me. I gazed at her eyes. “Name?” She echoed. I told her while I peered at her grey eye pupil, circled by the darker iris, swimming around. “Age?” This time in a louder voice as if I missed it. I murmured the number wishing I could see more. The black-lined and shadowed gems were all I had of her face. The rest of her, other than the hands, was covered in black. She looked back at me. “Job?” As the lids were raised, I noticed the long separated thick lashes. “An accountant.” The melody went on. “Request?” I pressed myself not to reveal my updated one. “Applying for the sponsored small projects program.” I had to try. It was the only chance! “Did you get the required documents?” I stretched my hand with a plastic file. Hers took it exposing the marble forearm. “Here they are… errrr…” I mumbled then, after taking a deep breath, piked the words “Would you have lunch with me, please?” She stared at me momentarily before turning to the next desk. Thank God it was empty. She bent a little and came up with a printout. “Follow up by phone in a week.” As I held the paper, the metallic voice called “Customer no. 19 … counter no. 5” I got up looking at my shoes heading to the exit.