there was no ATM service at the Chase branch on 96th street. So not only did I have to walk over to CitiBank on the northeast corner, I also had to now pay $1.50 for it. The man before me just walked away, leaving his information on the screen. He had $1,629.50 in his account. I pressed the cancel button. The ATM treated me like a bank robber, showed me a large graphic of a screw driver on its angled low screen. I waited. “How can I help you?” I glanced into the dark mirror in front of me. There was an inch long dark streak extending from my mouth. I wiped it off with two fingers of my left hand. It was bright red, watery, fresh blood. “How can I help you?” on a blue screen... Maybe not.