Personal Space

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Personal Space

By Plot Roach

Between the classical music and the droning of the bank teller, Samantha was nearly asleep on her feet as she approached the front of the line. Just drop the check off and you can go home, she told herself. A thump in her belly told her that her unborn son seconded the decision. I can only pray that the line moves faster than my due date. From behind her came a sound of two men arguing.

“Ever hear of personal space, buddy?” a man in a suit said, glaring at the man who began to push against him.

“Yeah, I have. And I ain’t your buddy, buddy.” said a man in a dark jogging suit. He flashed a grin at the man as he pushed him aside and pulled a gun from his pocket. “There’s no such thing as personal space in a hold up. Now everybody get down on the ground, don‘t try anything funny and we‘ll all get out of this in one piece.”

Most of the inhabitants of the bank’s lobby fell to the ground, Samantha dropped to her knees before lowering the rest of her body on the beige carpet. A few people, including the security guard who had been caught too busy gossiping with a buxom young blonde to do his job, were still on their feet and acting as if this was a staged skit by a local drama club.

“Everyone down!” the man with the gun said. He waved his weapon at the guard who tossed his own gun on the floor. He gestured to the tellers to come out from behind their glass encased counters. If someone had tripped an alarm, it must have been silent, for there was no noise except the sounds of the tellers feet on the carpet as they took their places next to the customers on the floor.

At least I didn’t pull the cash out of the account, yet. Samantha thought. She made a mental tally of anything she had of value on her. Her purse contained mostly over the counter medications to deal with the pregnancy like multivitamins and anti nausea pills. Her wallet held an emergency twenty dollar bill in a back pocket, just in case she needed to take a cab to the hospital, since her insurance would not cover the ride in an ambulance. But if he took her purse, would she be able to save her insurance card from her wallet? She hoped that he would not take it, since she doubted that they could mail her a replacement before her son was born.

But as she was having this internal debate, the man was busy unloading each of the teller’s registers and ordering the bank’s manager to open the safe vault. The manager tried to argue that the safe was on a timer and that he could not bypass the security measure, but a bullet in his leg changed his mind for him, especially when the gunman aimed his weapon higher.

“We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.” whimpered a man near Samantha. It was the man in the suit who had complained about his personal space being violated.

“We’re not going to die.” she whispered.

“And how do you know that?”

“If he wanted to hurt us, he would have done it by now. The only ones he’s hurting currently are the ones not doing what he asks. So lay there and shut up and he’ll leave us alone.”

“Hey! I said no funny stuff in here!” the gunman yelled. He walked over to Samantha and the man in the suit. By now the man in the suit was whimpering and tears slid from his eyes like a toddler caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “What’s his problem?” the gunman asked Samantha.

“He thinks that you’re going to kills us all.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think if we do what you say, you’ll leave us alone.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You haven’t shot anyone unnecessarily yet. If they’ve done what you asked, you don’t shoot them.”

“Good lesson. I hope everyone else here is taking notes.” the gunman beamed at her. “But why aren’t you laying on your belly?”

“I’m thirty seven weeks pregnant. I no longer have a belly, I have a baby condo attached to my ribs.” The gunman smiled, and Samantha knew that everything was going to be okay. While the bank manager and the security guard may have put the man in the mood for chaos and destruction, she had made him smile and thus had lightened his mood considerably. He lowered his gun.

“What should I do with that guy?” he asked, gesturing to the weeping man in the suit.

“I think he’s learned his lesson on personal space, don’t you?”

“And what am I going to do about you?” he asked, his seriousness returning like a cloud passing over the sun.

“I have no issues with personal space.” she joked. “Once you get pregnant, there’s no such thing anymore. He needed a little pep talk.” she said, gesturing to the weeping man. “But I promise that I’ll be quiet and play nice, as long as you don’t shoot me.”

And as suddenly as it had vanished, his smile returned, thawing the ice of fear that had collected in Samantha’s veins. “Maybe I should take your driver’s license so that I know where to pick you up for a date tonight. Do you like Italian?”

“Lately I’ve had more cravings for Chinese food than I care to admit.” she said. The stress of the situation passed with the release of tension in her body, but a new wave of fear crept over her. “You’ll have to make the reservation for three, however. Since my water just broke.”