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Show 193 words, "A hold up?" "You got it!" The man yanked out the gun, suddenly terribly angry. It was a big gun, black, with a thick barrel. He pointed it up at the pharmacist, sticking it right up into his face. The pharmacist instantly blanched white. He looked slowly down at the typewriter, where his hands remained poised over the keys. At the end of the counter, Steve threw his hand over his mouth, his eyes swelling. The gun swung in his direction. "Don't move!" Steve remained standing there with his hand over his mouth. The man pulled her over to the register, sticking the bag in Steve's face. Steve stared,down at it, crosseyed, the whites of his eyes bulging. "Fill it! all of it!" Steve didn't move. He couldn't move-did the man know that? "Fill it!" the man screamed sticking the barrel of the gun between Steve's eyes, "or I'll blow your head off!" Suddenly, desperately, Steve hit the "no sale" key and began to fill the bag, bills flying from his fingers. Wildly he grabbed at them, stuffing them back into the bag. The back door to the storeroom slammed, the barrel of the gun jumped toward the plastic curtain at the rear of the prescription area. It stopped: quivering. That would be Mr. Richards, she suddenly realized. Coming in from the back alley, where he always dumped the evening trash. No one breathed. Everyone was staring at that black, trembling gun. She knew that, even though she could not see them. For all she |