“Put it down.”
Leo shook his head.
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.”
“You can.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Leo's voice cracked.
“Because if I go back outside without money, I'm dead.”
Nobody spoke.
The words hung in the diner.
Corey closed his eyes.
Mike slowly put his coffee down.
“Who's waiting for you?”
Leo didn't answer.
“Richie?”
Leo froze.
Mike nodded.
“Thought so.”
“How do you know his name?”
“I don't.”
Mike's eyes remained fixed on him.
“But men like Richie always have names.”
Leo's shoulders dropped.
The shotgun trembled.
And for the first time that night, he looked less like a robber and more like a young man who had run out of road.
Corey had known Leo since childhood.
They had grown up together.
Same neighborhood.
Same cracked sidewalks.
Same convenience stores.
Same summer heat.
But there was something Corey had never understood about his cousin.
Leo always believed that if he ran fast enough, he could outrun consequences.
Tonight, Corey finally realized that Leo wasn't running toward money.
He was running away from shame.
Corey lowered his revolver.
Leo looked at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I can't do this.”
Leo stared.
Corey's voice shook.
“I can't.”
The revolver slipped from his fingers and landed on the counter.
Brenda flinched.
Mike didn't.
Bobby slowly stood.
Leo swung the shotgun toward Corey.
“You idiot!”
Corey raised both hands.
“Leo, stop.”
“You just gave up!”
“We don't have to do this.”
“Yes, we do!”
“No.”
Corey looked at him.
“We don't.”
Leo's breathing became ragged.
Mike stood.
It happened slowly.
No sudden movement.
No threat.
Just a man rising from a booth.
Leo immediately pointed the shotgun at him.
“Sit down!”
Mike stopped.
“Okay.”
He remained standing.
“You're right.”
Leo blinked.
“What?”
“You're scared.”
Leo's face tightened.
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
Mike nodded.
“Then tell me.”
Leo laughed bitterly.
“You think this is some therapy session?”
“No.”
Mike glanced toward the gun.
“I think you're standing at the edge of a decision.”
Leo stared at him.
Mike continued.
“You can walk away from this.”
“And then what?”
“Face the person you're afraid of.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
Leo's eyes became wet.
He looked away.
“My mother needs medication.”
Corey looked at him.
Leo continued.
“She can't afford it.”
Mike said nothing.
“She's sick. Richie knows it. He gave me money. Then he kept adding fees.”
“How much?” Bobby asked.
“Six thousand.”
Bobby frowned.
“For medicine?”
Leo shook his head.
“No.”
He swallowed.
“For everything.”
Rent.
Bills.
Food.
Medicine.
Late payments.
Old debts.
Everything had become one enormous number.
Corey finally spoke.
“He threatened us.”
Mike looked at him.
“He said he'd take the car.”
Corey hesitated.
“And the apartment.”
“And?”
Corey looked down.
“He said we'd lose something we couldn't replace.”
Mike understood.
He didn't ask for clarification.
Some threats didn't need explanation.
Mike walked slowly toward the counter.
Leo watched every step.
“Stay there.”
Mike stopped.
“Fine.”
He looked at Brenda.
“Can you make coffee?”
Brenda blinked.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
“Now?”
“Now.”
She almost laughed from disbelief.
But she did it.
The coffee machine hissed.
The ordinary sound seemed absurd in the middle of an armed robbery.
Yet somehow it changed the room.
Mike looked at Leo.
“Sit down.”
“I can't.”
“You've been standing for twenty minutes.”
“I said I can't.”
“Then lean against the counter.”
Leo did.
The shotgun remained in his hands.
But the barrel was no longer aimed at anyone.
That was progress.
Outside, headlights appeared.
Everyone turned.
A pickup truck rolled into the parking lot.
Leo panicked.
“Police?”
Bobby looked.
“No.”
The truck parked near the fuel pumps.
An exhausted trucker climbed out.
He walked toward the diner.
Leo's eyes widened.
“Tell him to leave.”
Mike looked at Brenda.
“Lock the door.”
She did.
The trucker saw the locked door and shrugged.
Then he returned to his truck.
Leo breathed again.
Mike watched him.
“See?”
“What?”