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Ned didn’t get along with people. That was one of his problems.
Standing in the supermarket checkout line he wished the little boy in front would stop staring. What was he looking at?
The store was too crowded. Ned wanted out.
“That’ll be $55.20,” the clerk said after she’d wrung up his purchases.
Fifty-five dollars, Ned thought. He didn’t have that much. And no credit card. He stood embarrassed for a moment, then he felt what had been accidentally sticking out of his jacket pocket.
He pulled out the .38 and pointed it at the clerk. “Give me the money.”