The rumpled sheets were his first sight, depressing shade of grey. It matched his mood. He stared at the screen of his phone, as though we actually had any notifications to check. It eventually started buzzing again, the seven minute snooze having gone by unappreciated. The noise was like bells pealing in his skull and he reached for the bottle of Tylenol before realizing there was no tell-tale rattle. Great… just great. Today is going to be torture…

After getting ready quickly, he opened the door quietly, praying it wouldn’t creak. It was one small blessing that was granted. His roommate was curled up on the couch with her sleazy boyfriend. He lived here but of course didn’t help with rent, instead living on her half of the rent and food. She said he “invests”, whatever that meant, but if one thing was clear it was the fact that he was broke. He probably sold drugs… he definitely sold drugs…

His car turned over several times before finally revving up and he was cautious pulling out of the driveway. The tank was nearly at E and his head was throbbing so he pulled over at the 7Eleven at the corner of the street and went through the pumps. He listened to the loud clicks and it finally reached 20 dollars worth. He ducked into his car the grab his card and was greeted by the empty ash tray. He needed cigarettes, forget cold turkey, he was desperate. He grabbed the keys and locked the doors while he walked into the store.

It’s harsh LEDs hummed loudly and flickered, sending light bouncing of the laminated floor tiles and looking at the rows of junk food he was reminded he should get some breakfast. He grabbed a pack of honeybuns as he walked to the huge fridge on the back wall. As he looked at the row of energy drinks, he faintly registered a commotion at the front desk. Probably some drunk homeless guy or a customer’s card didn’t work. He closed the door quietly, minding his migraine and started weaving his way through the aisles of snacks and junk food when her heard a shout.

“Open the drawer!”

The sudden yell startled him and he automatically ducked down and put his hands over his head, like the tornado drills they were forced to do as kids in school. His blood rushed in his ears as he eased his head forward to peer around the end cap. The matte black gun was cocked sideways at the cashier. A black ski mask and leather jacket hid the man from view but at the moment it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was the finger that curled around the trigger of the gun, held so carelessly. Curses ran through his head but thankfully he didn’t say anything, instead clasping his hands tightly to hide the shaking. How to get out of here? He couldn’t go through the front, the only other door was behind the desk… the bathroom was outside, in a separate room. Where’s his phone?! He remembered… it was sitting in the cup holder of his car. Isn’t it funny how life works like that?

“And some cigarettes! Throw me in the bag!”

The man in black’s voice was shaky, almost panicked. This dude was not a pro… a mad laugh threatened to escape, hysterical, but he pushed it down at the next words.

“I don’t wanna have to use this, old man, but I’ve done it before! Hurry up!”

He couldn’t focus, he was terrified. He turned to flee, further into the store but–

“CLONK!”

His numb hand hit a can of soup and it went rolling out into the open. He hurried away before the robber could see him. He held his breath and knew his heart’s rapid-fire thumps would give him away. When he darted across and had a view of the man again, the cashier had already pulled his own gun, taking advantage of the distraction. Weight settled in his stomach at the sight. He could help. The man was focused completely on the cashier, both focused on the barrels at each other’s heads. He could easily sneak up, pull him away… he had to try… he had to try… he started moving, sprinting the last few feet to the man and wrapped his arm around his neck, yanked him back and suddenly the man was fighting him, struggling in his grip, almost growling.