“A Good Day Turning Bad”
I thought it would be an exceptional day for me. I was finally quitting my job and moving to Paris, France!
I had arrived at the bank earlier than usual. There was plenty of time to mull over my plane ticket with great plans for the future swirling in my head as I drank my morning coffee.
I almost skipped into the manager’s office as soon as he arrived that morning. I had my resignation in my hand, a huge smile on my face, and I could hardly wait to tell him my happy news.
Mr. Dunken was over-joyed for me, but sorry to see me leave. He was not looking forward to training another assistant manager, especially since I had been his assistant for a better part of two years. He asked me to consider staying at least another month, however, my plans had already been put in motion and I had to leave within two weeks.
Business that day was slow partly because it was raining and quite chilly outside. There was always a lull in business on days like that. When the doors opened there were four customers that came in.
A man wearing a dark green jacket was scanning the room with his large bulging eyes that held a menacing glare. The hat he wore looked like it was from another century. It was also quite soiled and had small holes in it.
I stepped up to help the man since one teller was busy taking a customer to his safe deposit box, and the other one was counting several hundred dollars in five dollar bills.
The man looked at me as he gripped his car keys in his hand, like he could squeeze a glass of juice out of them. He quickly scanned the room again, then pulled out a piece of newspaper and handed it to me while staring as I read it.
It puzzled me until I read what was on it. He had used a dark red marker to circle certain words on the newsprint. The words I read were ‘put stack bills in envelope give to me gun present.’ The word gun was not only circled, but also underlined.
He continued to stare at me. I pictured a photograph of me…covered in blood!
Mr. Dunken walked up behind me as I was handing the envelope to the man. Then, the man started shaking all over, reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun and fired it toward us.
I woke up from a coma three weeks later. The man had shot me in the head and had fired a round at Mr. Dunken, who escaped any serious injury.
My plans to fly to Paris in two weeks had quickly altered in just a split second on that tragic day.
There are no guarantees in life.
Copyright © 2015 Written by Jessie Cross ~ All rights reserved