A Reason to Breathe

A Reason to Breathe, Chapter 3

"You're bossy." He muttered under his breath as he stood beside Katy in line. They were behind a lady in stripes and jeans that were green instead of blue and pulled at the seams. They were way too tight, he thought, and she was impatient as they waited to use the bank machine.

Katy pulled her gaze to him and stared at him. Her eyes were blue, and she pulled her brows together, causing wrinkles to form at the bridge of her nose.

"You shouldn't do that." He reached up and touched the wrinkles to smooth them, and she made a face and swatted his hand away.

"Okay, that's it, Trevor. Get your hands down and leave my wrinkles alone. They're mine, not yours, and stop complaining. You've been getting away with not having to talk or having your too-rigid routine shaken up by doing something different instead of the same old. Who cares if we drive a different way or go to the bank first before you go to work? You need to be open and flexible enough to go with it..."

The lady in front of them moved forward, and he put his hand on Katy's elbow and moved her up even though she was still talking. One more person gone. They were almost there. An old lady with white hair and wrinkles was hunched over at the machine, her hand shaking as she tried to press the buttons. He wished she'd hurry up, because he needed to get to work, to sort the bags, to package the cookies.

Katy tapped his shoulder. "Trevor, I'm over here. Pay attention to me and what I'm saying. Besides, you didn't answer me." She was holding that baggy purse with the fringes, and he wanted to reach over and straighten them.

"About what?" This was taking too long. He was going to be late for work.

"See? You weren't listening again. I can always tell. I asked you if you've ever had lunch with any of your coworkers and if you know anything about them—"

"Everybody get their hands up!" a man yelled.

Trevor stared at Katy. Her face had suddenly gone white, her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm and pulled him. He didn't know where to look. Someone screamed, he thought, and he looked over to the counter, where there had been two women and another man in a glassed-in office in the back. People in brown and black coats were screaming, someone bumped him, and he fell back on his butt and hit the floor. He turned over on his stomach, his hands on the dirty concrete, and he spotted a candy wrapper—gold, Werther's. He should pick it up and put it in the garbage.

"On the floor! Everyone get down on the floor now! Eyes down. Don't look at me."

He felt a hand again on his arm, squeezing so tight, and he turned to see Katy on the floor beside him, her hair a mess because it had been pulled loose from the clip. He could see how wide her eyes were, and he could see she was scared. He could always tell the many moods of Katy. There was scared Katy, sad Katy, happy Katy, and there were all the other ones he didn't really understand, which fell into that gray area of a kind of happy or sad or tired or something.

He turned his head, seeing the fat lady with thick dark hair whimpering and making a godawful noise. She was the one who had knocked him down, and she had on a blue striped shirt. Her bra was showing, and he tried to look away as he held up his hand to cover his eyes. He went to reach over to pull her shirt closed, but Katy slapped his hand and stared at him, wide eyed, the kind of look that told him to stop it. She obviously didn't see the problem, so he pointed. She made an odd face and sharply gave her head a shake, putting her finger to her lips to be quiet, so he turned his head, making sure not to look at the lady on the floor.

He saw two men standing, the only two standing, and they had guns. One was in faded jeans, the other in ugly brown ones like Steven wore when he went to work. They had a small tear beneath his knee, and white threads were showing. They had ski masks on. One wore the kind that looked itchy, green with a white stripe. He knew that was wool because he didn't like wool. It itched his skin. The other guy in the jeans had on a black ski mask and was pointing his gun, turning in a circle, looking at everyone. Both had on hoodies, one brown, the other black and red.