The Purse

A man sits in a parked car, he is focused on an object in his hand. It's an old brass pocket watch. The watch has a grime to it. The grime telling a story 100 years old, perhaps even older. The little hand is about to strike 3pm, and a drop of sweat trickles down from the man's brow almost as if in sync with the watch. The long hand on the watch strikes the number 12, and the mans eyes flash in recognition of the appointed hour. He yanks two bags from the passenger seat and starts walking with haste. It quickly becomes clear that his destination is a tall monolithic glass building. A monument to capitalism, one could even say it was its church. The automated doors open, and a security guard welcomes him in. Normally a man wearing a mask while walking into a bank would be considered a threat, but the pandemic has made some strange things seem mundane. The masked man is selective, scanning the room for the meekest teller. Once he has made his selection he calmly waits in line.

"Next" she chirps out and he walks toward her. He smiles at her with his eyes. He places the bags down on the counter, one is a large gym bag and the other a small purse. The teller looks a bit bewildered but this isn't the strangest sight she has seen.

"Hello, my name is Maria, how may I assist you with your banking needs today?"

The masked man chimes back, calmly, with a low smokey voice, almost as a whisper.

"Thanks Maria, you can assist me by reading this note"

He hands her a crisply folded white paper, his eyes now take on a menacing hue. She scans the paper line by line, her hand trembling more, and more the further down the page she gets. She looks down at the purse, and is entranced by it. He shakes her out of her shock with a hiss of his voice.

"That's right, now please follow my instructions Maria, and lets not involve any of your friends"

Maria is a single mother, she's worked at this particular branch of the bank for 5 years. An image of her daughter flashes in her mind, more vividly than ever before. Her trembling hands grab the large gym bag and she makes her way over to the vault door. Maria considers typing the panic code into the door, it would unlock the vault but alert the police. She looks back nervously at the masked man. He stares right back at her, as if into her soul and moves the purse to the center of the counter, the harsh florescent light setting a spot light on the purse. She turns, inputs a code into the door, and it pops open with a metallic click. She then walks inside, away from his view. He pulls the antique pocket watch from his jacket, it reads "3:05".

She emerges from the vault, the gym bag full to the brim, and the masked man lets out a sigh of relief. She places the bag down on the counter and he calmly picks it up, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Thank you for your assistance today, and remember, wait until I've left before you call the police"

She doesn't look up at him, her eyes fixed on the purse in front of her. A purse lit by the garish light.

The masked man makes his way past the security guard who is too busy assisting an older woman to her feet to notice him. The weight of the gym bag presses into his shoulder as he makes his way out of the bank and makes it to the car. He places the heavy bag down on the passenger seat and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He takes out the watch, it reads "3:10".

"Its time to show them all" he says with ice in his breath. He pulls a small cell phone out of the glove compartment, and he flips it open. Its an old flip phone from the early aughts. He takes a moment's pause, about one heart beats worth and then places his thumb on the send button with firm pressure. The sound of thunder, breaking glass, and screams fill the air. The masked mans blood is filled with fire. He revels in the sense of power and accomplishment of having ended so many lives. After savoring the moment, he drives off. He passes through the smoke bellowing out of the once proud building. For all the pain he caused he spares not one ounce of empathy nor remorse. No remorse for Maria the single mother, Bob the security guard that was near retirement, or the old woman that was just making sure her grand kids would be taken care of after she passed. All of them gone at the speed of his thoughts. He pulls into an alley a few miles from the bank leaving behind the car, discarding it the way a snake sheds its skin. He calmly walks out into a crowd and takes one last glance at his pocket watch before disappearing into the city.