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**[Narrated in first-person, present tense]**
I woke up late. My alarm never went off — or maybe I just forgot to set it. Either way, my head is pounding, and I’m already behind. I skip breakfast, throw on yesterday’s hoodie, and rush out the door. My car’s gas tank is nearly empty — of course it is — so I make a quick stop at the gas station down the road. Just a normal morning, I think.
The sun's barely up. The lot is quiet — just me and a guy sitting in a car parked across from the entrance. I don’t think much of him at first. I head inside.
I grab a water bottle and a snack — something small. I’m in no mood to talk, just trying to get in and out. There’s a cashier behind the counter — young guy, maybe early twenties, tapping his fingers on the register. I give him a quick nod.
Then, I hear the door swing open.
It's the guy from the car. Hoodie up, eyes darting. Something about him feels… wrong.
He doesn’t grab anything. He just walks straight to the counter.
“Empty the register.”
I freeze.
The cashier stares at him like he didn’t hear right.
“You heard me.”
Then I see it — the gun in his hand. Cold steel. Shaking slightly. He’s nervous. I’m terrified.
The cashier opens the drawer. He’s stalling, fumbling with the bills. The man shouts, “Faster!”
I take a step back. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it. I look at the exit — too far. I’m caught.
Suddenly, the cashier lunges. Grabs the gun. A struggle breaks out. They’re yelling, pushing, wrestling.
*Bang!*
Everything stops.
The robber stumbles. Blood on his shirt. He falls to the ground.
The cashier is shaking, holding the gun now. I don't think he even knows what he just did.
I look at him — we both do. Just stare at each other. Silence.
I run.
Out the door, into my car. Hands trembling on the steering wheel. I start the engine and drive. Fast.
I don’t remember the road home. It’s all a blur — my mind racing, replaying everything. The robber’s eyes. The sound of the gunshot. The silence after.
I didn’t plan to be there. Just bad timing. Or maybe good — I don’t know. I think about what would've happened if the cashier didn’t fight back. If I’d said something. If I’d moved too soon.
I still hear the shot sometimes — in my dreams, when it’s quiet, when I close my eyes. Just one second, and everything changed.
It was supposed to be a normal day.
Just a quick stop for snacks.
That’s my story.
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