The thugs run out of the bank, alarm blaring, carrying sports bags. At least they left the burlap sacks with dollar signs at home."Come on dudes! That...one's not even wearing a mask!" you feel like shouting out. That does it, you feel like dishing out some damage just on principal, after all, running around all half-cocked with shotguns,these lads could hurt themselves you think with a smirk and then leap from the roof edge.You hit the street, the tarmac crumpling from the impact, the suit. I had to pull it down over my head a little harder. Itwas suffocating, a tight cocoon. But I carried on. My nose slidedagainst the texture inside, trying to find the correct spot for it.After struggling for a while, I smoothed out the seam on my neckline.The mask was finally on. Everything was on its place. I slipped my feetinto the black pumps, put the earrings on my ears and the cat-eyeglasses in the pocket of my blazer. Then I locked and returned themask-pack back into the water. More

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