Pine Oaks Bank, Tuesday Morning, 11:57 AM

We join events at the bank, already in progress

Created using Microsoft Bing Image Creator: “front of a suburban bank building, single story, 15 feet tall, parking lot immediately in front, glass front, glass doors with a vestibule, shadowy figures inside, nobody outside, abstract style” manually modified by author

Herbert felt something hard push the back of his head. He started moving slowly toward the bank’s front doors. The robber shuffled behind him, his hand still holding on to Herbert’s belt to maintain control.

Is that his shotgun he’s prodding me with? Stupid stupid, yes, of course, what else would it be? Focus, man, focus.

The female cop outside was crouched behind her police car, weapon pointed at the door they was approaching. There was some glare on the glass of the door and front windows, but Herbert thought she looked young.

Well, mid-30s, I guess, so young as far as I’m concerned.

They reached the inside door. Herbert paused with his hand on the door handle. “Do you want me to open it?” He waited for an answer. The robber’s voice, coming through very clearly thanks to Herbert’s new hearing aids, was softer than a few minutes ago when he’d been shouting orders at the bank’s staff and customers: “Um, yeah, we need to— wait, that glass, is that, like, bullet-proof glass? Can they shoot through it? Are we safer in here?”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing! He’s a kid, just a kid, he didn’t think the cops would be here before he got away. He brought a pistol and a…