The man also released it. It thudded to the floor.
They stared at each other in stunned silence.
William grabbed his chest. His hand felt wet. He glanced at it and saw that it was
covered in blood. He wished it were paint, like May’s handprint from earlier, but
it wasn’t.
Pain lit up his chest. He collapsed.
The man cursed, fumbling with the register. “How the hell do you open this?”
He pounded his fist on the buttons.
William could barely breathe. Each inhale was shorter than the last.
The man came back and kicked him in the ribs. “How do I get it open?”
William said nothing. He gazed up to the ceiling, trying to draw air.
He pictured Casey, rocking May to sleep, humming her favorite song. He imagined the
creak of the chair, the warmth of their home.
He tried to smile.
Everything went black.