Tom, a man in his early fifties with a warm smile and a tidy suit, locks up his small accounting office. The sign above the door reads "Tom’s Trusted Tax Service" in peeling gold letters. Content with his morning’s work, he strolls down Main Street, waving to clients and friends as he heads to the local grocery store.
Tom heads straight to the dairy aisle, selects a quart of milk, and lines up at the register. Behind the counter is Susan, a young woman with tired eyes, her hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail. Tom hands over cash and receives his change, pocketing it without a glance.
"Wait a minute… that’s five cents short," he mutters, frowning. The discrepancy gnaws at him, and though the sum is small, his sense of fairness urges him to return to the store.
"Excuse me, Susan, but you gave me the wrong change. I’m missing five cents,""I counted it right. I’m not giving you anything else," A few shoppers pause, sensing the rising tension. Tom's voice grows firmer as he insists, but Susan refuses to budge.
"Yes, I’d like to report a theft—five cents, yes. I want the police here,"Brad, the burly store manager with a booming voice and a red face, storms out from the back office. "What’s the problem here? Susan’s the best cashier I’ve got," Arguments flare, voices overlap, and a crowd gathers. Suddenly, a shout erupts, and a shoving match spirals into chaos. Groceries scatter, people slip and fall, and the scene devolves into frantic mayhem.
Six ambulances line the curb, doors swinging open as EMTs work frantically. Among the injured is Little Becky Clements, a small child clutching a stuffed rabbit, her mother sobbing beside her as she’s carried away. The crowd falls silent as the news spreads: Little Becky did not survive the journey to the hospital.
Susan, face pale, stands in shackles as the judge sentences her to ten years of hard labor for felony larceny and second-degree murder. Brad, eyes hollow, is given a life sentence on RICO charges. Tom, quietly dignified, receives legal ownership of the store by court order.
One night, Tom sets fire to the store. He stands at a distance, watching the inferno reflect in his glasses. Firefighters arrive too late; the building collapses into embers. Tom files his insurance claim, the check arriving soon after.
Tom reclines in a striped hammock, a cold drink in hand, gazing at the horizon. The past feels like a distant storm, and in the golden light, Tom smiles, finally at peace.
