All I wanted to do was get a pair of combat boots. Black ones.
I walk into the shoe store then walk to the aisle with combat boots. I've been here so many times to stare at them that I have the aisle memorized.
I'm Dylan, Dylan Daniels.
My family isn't poor. If you could call it a family. It's Mom and I in a townhouse. It's just my mom is a workaholic and I'm lucky if I see her for a minute. Some eighteen year olds would get high or drunk every night. She's not my mom, she took me in when my parents got in a car accident. She tells me to call her mom.
In my case I work at Roquefield Towers as a receptionist from 1:30-5:00.
If I ever want to buy anything I have to pay for it. Including food, any food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks.
I walk to the Checkout Line, four people in front of me. I wait. When it's my turn, five men/guys in black clothing and black ski-masks walk in with guns aimed all directions.