[ WP ] A man brings a gun to a bank . Do anything you please onwards .

Angela helped Doug fasten his seat belt, checking it was tight over his shoulder before she buckled her own and drove them into town, their big tan Buick shining, fresh-polished that morning. She drove slowly, oblivious to the impatient drivers behind her in their Hondas and Mazdas, leaning forward and muttering, their lips moving abuse in her rear-view mirror. She never looked in the mirror anyway. 
 
 `` What are we doing in town, love?'' Doug asked her as the car nosed cautiously around the corner onto the main street. Angela sighed. 
 
 `` The post office, then the bank. Then the library. You wanted the new James Patterson.'' 
 
 `` Oh. Oh, yes. I did, did n't I?'' Doug leaned back, thinking. 
 
 `` What are we doing at the post office?'' 
 
 `` I need to send Beth's birthday present. We bought her that picture frame last week. You chose the beechwood one.'' 
 
 `` Did I? Oh.'' 
 
 They parked, awkwardly, on the kerb with the rear bumper jutting into the cycle lane. A cyclist said something as he slid past, but Angela did n't catch it, and Doug was saying something to himself about a turkey. 
 
 `` No, love. Thanksgiving was last month.'' 
 
 `` Oh. Oh.'' 
 
 Arm in arm they walked into the post office. Angela stood in line, showing Doug greeting cards with funny messages and cartoony pictures on the front ( nothing too naughty ) and Doug told her the story of his eightieth birthday party, how he got that hilarious card from his son-in-law with the naked woman inside, and how his wife blushed and mock-scolded him for it. 
 
 Angela sighed, again. She knew the story. 
 
 After the post office they went two doors down, into the bank. Angela sent Doug to wait in line while she filled in the withdrawal slip. She could n't find the pen at first, and spent some time rummaging in her purse before she asked the man standing beside her. She glanced over to the queue; Doug was standing quietly, looking straight ahead. Two young women were in front of him. 
 
 She painstakingly filled in the form, lifting her glasses from her nose to see better. She had told Doug she needed to get bifocals, but there were always more important things to do. She signed with a flourish -- she had been writing her name that way for fifty-six years, and when she was in a good mood she always flicked the pen at the end, giving a tail to Doug's name. As she handed the pen back to the man next-door, there was a loud gasp behind her, that echoed through the marble-floored room and tore outward as others turned towards the sound and uttered sounds of fear. 
 
 `` He's got a gun!'' someone whisper-shrieked, and Angela felt a moment of weakness, her knees sagging, even as her head turned instinctively to find Doug, make sure he was safe. 
 
 He was standing at the counter and it was like a painting with her husband the central figure. Everyone around him was frozen as if time had stopped, for everyone except her and Doug. Doug was turning his head in confusion, seeking her out through the petrified crowd. 
 
 `` Angela?'' 
 
 In his hand he held a pistol. It swivelled with him as he turned to face her. Angela's knees gave way and she sank elegantly to the ground. 
 
 `` Angela? I... I think I forgot my wallet. It was supposed to be in my pocket. But I found this instead.'' 
 
 She stared up and over at him, a gleaming ocean of marble between them. She could n't bring herself to move, or even speak. Her limbs were numb. 
 
 `` Angela? Do you have my wallet? This... this is n't my wallet. I do n't know where it is.'' 
 
 Sirens screamed from far away. Or maybe the noise was inside Angela's head. She opened her mouth, tried to move her hands to reach out to him, but nothing happened. 
 
 Doug moved towards her, tears starting to run down his sagging cheeks. 
 
 `` Are you all right, love? Here, I'll help you up.'' 
 
 The people around him shrank back as he moved towards Angela, his arms out to help her. A mother pulled her son close, pressing him against her legs. The man who had been filling in his form beside her had taken three long steps and was now standing in front of a pair of nuns, who stood blinking like penguins in the sun. The light shone through high windows and as Doug passed through a beam of sunlight, light making his bald head glow pink, he stumbled over his own shoes. 
 
 There was an almighty bang, that echoed on the marble surfaces and seemed to ripple and rebound without fading. Angela thought, in her last moments alive, that the sound of the gunshot would go on for ever. 
 
 Doug stood up, running a shaking hand over the strands of hair that usually covered his head. The pistol, now spent, lay forgotten in a swirl of red marble. 
 
 `` Angela? Do you have my wallet?''
