How the Revolution Started (fiction)
He’s outfitted for combat.
Ankle boots; black dungarees; Sam Brown belt with cuffs and mace and other tools of the craft; bulletproof vest; sunglasses; implacable stare.
And a gun, holstered at the moment.
The nametag says whatever you want it to say.
He’s standing in the parking lot, guarding the bank, where inside there must be more money than he will earn in his lifetime.
Jan 4, 2017