near the coolers. He watched him for a moment, then got distracted by another
customer buying Newports.
Then came the crash. Glass shattered in the chip aisle.
William sighed and stepped out from behind the counter. The old man stood over five
broken salsa jars, chuckling to himself.
“Everything okay, sir?” William asked.
No answer.
He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Sir?”
The man spun, pressing a gun into William’s stomach. William froze, instinctively
putting his hands up.
“Okay, okay,” William said.
“Back to the register,” the man said, motioning with the gun.
William nodded and walked.
“I’m sorry about this,” the man muttered. “Stay calm, and you won’t get hurt.”
“Okay,” William said again. “Okay.”
At the register, the man rifled through William’s backpack.
“That’s mine,” William said. The man glanced up, then dumped the contents onto the
floor.
William knelt to retrieve his textbook. He needed to keep it in good shape to sell
back to the campus bookstore. He could get half his money back.
The man grabbed the book. William held on.
“Please,” he said.
The man yanked harder, using both hands. The gun wavered.
BLAM!
William’s eyes widened. His jaw fell open. He let go of the book.