We Could Live Like Hermits

“Stop.”

“The fuck you mean?” I snapped.

“Just don’t. It’s not going to end well.”

“And how would you know that?” I retorted. “You from the future?”

Silence.

I placed my Glock onto my lap, lifted my ski mask and looked into the welled-up eyes of my best friend seated on the passenger side of my beaten-up ‘93 Camaro. I always found it funny that we both shared the same green eyes when nobody else in town I’ve met had them. “Brother from another mother,” he’d tell me all the time.

Ever since we met, we got along famously. Through good times and bad times, we’d stick together, coming out on top. Even though today was going to be one of them, I had a feeling that he was going to get cold feet. I strengthened my resolve.

“You don’t understand, Francis. I just got let go, I’ve got a kid on the way, I’m up to my neck in debt,” I told him. “I need this.”

“Just trust me,” he replied, in between sobs. “It’s a bad idea, someone’s going to call the cops, there’s going to be a massive shoot out, and you’re going to end up… dead.”

“The fuck you on about? You gonna call the cops on me? Aren’t we in this together?”

“I’m not gonna snitch, it’s not that –”

“What happened to all that talk about leaving this town and starting a new life far away? You and Sam; me, Nancy and the little one; neighbors on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Don’t you want that?”

“I do, but – “

“But? But shut the fuck up! You in it or you out. I don’t got time for this shit.”

I pulled my ski mask back on, readied my gun, and stepped out onto the front steps of the town’s largest bank.


Writing Prompt from Reddit: [WP] You have realized that your best friend is your son/daughter from the future who wants to hang out and get to know you since you die before he/she was born

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