Undercover

I wrote a first draft of this based on a promt at WriteToDone. It's posted, along with many other stories based on the prompt, in the comment section there. Then I did a couple more rounds of editing before posting it here.

Undercover
By Laura McHale Holland 

I've seen plenty in my thirty years here. There was the time I arrived to open the bank, and the display windows were smashed. Glass shards littered the sidewalk; glass was on the floor inside, too. The work of young anarchists prowling the night before.

Another time, it wasn't glass on the floor; it was everyone in the bank. Except for the tellers. They were pulling money from their cash drawers with trembling hands. But then a customer realized the gun the robber brandished was only a toy. He wrestled the culprit to the ground. I pressed the alarm. Soon enough Officer Kaufman had the man in a paddy wagon.

Yes, I've seen plenty over the years. But today takes the cake. I can't work. Clothes racks and shelves clutter the waiting area. And a checkout station is right where my desk should be. A girl behind the counter is waving at me. Our tellers would never have tattoos all over their arms like she does.

“Hi, Mr. Walker, are you lost again?” she asks.

“I'm not lost. I work here.”

“Of course you do. Why don't you have a seat by the window? I'll sort it all out, okay?”

She picks up her cell phone. I stand my ground. A few minutes later, Officer Kaufman walks in, smiles at me.

“Francis Walker. You're just the man I'm looking for.”

“Hi there Officer. Do you need another loan?”

“No, Francis. I've come to take you home.”

“Home? Is something wrong with Nancy?”

“Nancy is in heaven now, Francis. You and me, we're both widowers long retired. We live at Happy Hills, and I've come to take you home.”

I don't believe a word he's said, but he is an officer of the law. I'd better go. This must be some undercover operation; he'll fill me in once we get outside. 

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