A silhouette of a man crouched down on a snow-filled rooftop. At a distance, in the sky, the moon lingered behind him. A gust of wind whisked his trench coat; he glanced at his watch. It was midnight. By 12:05 A.M., the manager would be pulling in front of the bank.

Manuel quickly thought about the escape route. There was a stolen car parked behind the building. He figured it would take him about twenty minutes to get from Dedham back to Boston without going over the speed limit. It was 12:05 A.M., and as scheduled, the manager was parking in front of the bank.

Daniel looked in his rearview mirror. Nothing was behind him. He looked to his right then to his left. Everything was clear to him. He took a moment to yawn and wondered what his wife cooked for supper. Then he felt a tingling sensation in his genitals from when Marla, the redhead, had given him a blowjob in the stockroom. He tried to persuade her to stay but she said she had to go, so he came in her mouth and called it a night. He opened the car door and peaked around, one last time. He picked up the deposit bag and made his way to the glass door. He held the bag firm in his hand and had his bankcard ready to insert—but never got the chance.

A dark figure descended from the roof with his coattail flailing behind him. His forearm and chest landed on Daniel’s shoulder and head. His weight caused the manager’s knees to buckle and his head to bang against the concrete.

Daniel saw a silhouette of a man roll off him, scramble to his feet, and grab for the moneybag. He was dazed, but still gripped the bag of money. The silhouette stopped grabbing for the bag and placed three solid blows to his head. Daniel let out a cry for help, but a dark fist struck him in the Adam’s apple. The manager released the moneybag and grasped his throat.

<Read More>