STORY FOR A DOLLAR
A pretty young lady wearing pink shorts and a white blouse with a small backpack over her thin shoulders descended the escalator towards the lobby of the casino, running a hand through wavy blonde hair as she looked about her, eyeing the shops and lights. She gripped her phone and stepped into the flow of humanity pushing its way along the walkway, shiny insistent machines lining either side of the yellow floor. Pausing at a display, she looked at designer handbags, and there, eyeing the new dresses of summer, while she kept checking her phone for messages.
The people pushed her as she looked in the windows, at the goods, the tattoo parlors, the blaring bars with girls dancing on the stage. The push of energy led her outside the casino, onto the street, where the vendors hawked stolen goods and cheap tee shirts of the city. The heat and light of the early afternoon assaulted her eyes, making her wish for a hat. She pulled sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on before continuing her walk. The sounds attacked her ears, a blend of music and voices as the smells of food and perfume invaded her senses. She stood for a moment, near a booth offering tacos and two dollar margaritas when she heard the voice.
“Hey you,” the voice intoned.
She spun round to face a man seated at a table. She gasped as she saw his scraggy beard that sprouted crazy from his face, long and wild. His long, shiny brown hair set off his fierce brown eyes, which seemed to bore into her pale blue, delicate eyes. She took a step towards him, to escape the traffic.
George found a scrap of paper attached to a one dollar bill pinned to the front gate. No clue about the origin can be found on the security cameras. No matter how it came to be, there is the issue of the content. I'll let you be the judge. What do you make of this sample?