She asks the loan of the kid who failed her class

«Good morning, Iker.» Ana Ruiz folded her umbrella and set it to one side of the counter. «I'm here about the roof. I heard you were the new manager.»

Iker Berastegi had failed Ana Ruiz's Spanish class in year ten. Twice. In June, in September and again in the October retake. He was forty now and ran the branch.

«Please sit down, Doña Ana. Eight thousand, yes?»

«That's what the estimate says. My pension is one thousand three hundred and twenty.»

Iker looked at the screen and out came the same slip that came for everyone. She was sixty-seven, the house was in her name, she had no other debt. The system rejected her on age and on ratio.

«I can offer five over eight years. With your daughter as guarantor, seven. Not eight.»

«Iker.»

«Yes.»

«You were the only student who phoned my house the day I retired.»

Iker looked up from the keyboard.

«Sign for seven and use your usual signature. I'll handle the guarantor myself.»