Intro

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"This is a robbery," he announces meekly.

"Excuse me?" A woman at the counter looks up, fixes her glasses and blinks at him with polite interest. "I'm sorry, dear, you have to speak louder."

He's sweating under a thick scarf and wondering how the hell he's ended up in this position. That's not what his mom would have wanted for him. He was supposed to become a veterinarian, take up photography, buy a station wagon and move to the countryside. He wasn't supposed to let some morons convince him to get into a far-fetched business with them and in result get threatened with having his fingers cut off and his teeth pulled out by douchebags who think they're mobsters. If he's at least made a fortune on it then maybe it would be worth it. But he still can't even afford a car, he just ended up back to square one with the additional bonus of being here in this delightful company.

But this is it, just one last folly and he will get even and free to do whatever he wishes. Which is to sleep this whole escapade off and never  mention it again.

Something pokes him hard in the back to urge him on. It's Mikrus' finger. Why does he even have to be the one to do the talking? He's hopeless at this whole intimidation thing.

He takes a deep breath and pulls a gun on the charming but hard of hearing teller. People in the line look up curiously, either not realizing yet that they are in danger or just sensing that he has no idea what he's doing and thus not being very concerned.

"This is a robbery!" he shouts.

•~💰~•

"You watched the game with her?" she asks, sounding devastated.

He raises his eyebrows incredulously. "That's your biggest worry?"

"But we always watch it together," she starts before recalling that he'd also just admitted to cheating on her multiple times, including right after the game they should have watched together when, if she remembers correctly, he happened to be on the phone with her. Maybe the game indeed isn't the biggest of their problems.

She quickly gets over this unnecessary sentimental setback and resumes packing. She tosses her make-up bag into her suitcase and stops by the jewelry box.

"Come on, babe, don't be..."

"You filthy, lying piece of shit!" she blows up, grabbing one of the pillows and throwing it at him. "I feel sick when I look at you!"

She casts around for something heavier. Her eyes fall on the ugly blue vase they've gotten from his mother and narrow with glee at first, but then she pauses. No, wait, he hates it as much as she does. What will he miss most? She goes for his vinyl collection.

"Can we talk about this...?" He follows her, having the nerve to use this infuriatingly patient voice of his.

"We're not going to talk about anything! We're over! And!" She points a finger at him, enraged. "It might be your place, but don't forget it's not just yours! Who paid for these tiles? I want them back!"

"How am I supposed to do that, tear them off the wall?" he scoffs like she's the unreasonable one here. "That's what you want?"

A vinyl record flies over his head.

"I want my money back!" she screeches, reaching for another one with little remorse.

"No, not Bowie!" His voice gets frantic and he barely ducks this time. "Well I don't have any!" he finally exclaims, cringing.

She stops destroying his possessions and blinks, so at least he's achieved his goal. "What do you mean you don't have any?" she hisses dangerously.

"I'm... kind of between projects right now," he explains reluctantly.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Feb 04 ⏰

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