Little Inconveniences

Harry blinked several times, willing the sight of the body and the blood on the tile floor to disappear. But they didn’t.

When his father had called Harry he’d been sure there was some mistake. Kentville was a small town with no major roads running through it. Gas station convenience stores weren’t unusual targets for thieves, but the one his father had run for the past thirty years was such an unlikely target with it being so far off the beaten path. Everyone knew everyone in Kentville, but Harry didn’t recognize the face of the man with the bullet hole in his head.

Looking away from the dead man, Harry tried to focus on the conversation between his father and Sheriff Wilkins.

“Did the thief come in alone?” the sheriff asked.

Harry’s father nodded.

“But Mrs. Chaney across the way said she saw two men get out of a black car,” said the Sheriff skeptically.

“Well, only one tried to rob me.”

“Alright. Then what happened?”

“He asked for cigarettes and when I turned to get them he pulled the gun out. Told me to give him all the money in the register. I pretended to open the drawer. Then I pulled out my gun and shot him.” Harry’s father nodded to the pistol sitting on the counter.

“Security footage?”

“Camera’s broken.”

Sheriff Wilkins stroked his mustache. “Okay. That’s enough for now.” He looked at Harry. “Get your father home. If I have more questions I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”

Once Harry and his father were seated in his car, a few moments passed in silence.

Then his father let out a deep breath. “Did you do what I asked?”

“I got the tape and destroyed the camera.”

“Good.”

“But why?

“Do you remember Callum Perry?”

“Of course I do. He bullied me all the time in school. Stole from your store a bunch too. He’d brag about how you were too scared to stop him.”

His father sighed. “I did let him get away with stealing. But not because I was scared of him. I knew his dad was a lazy drunk and the boy didn’t have anything to eat at home. He only stole food and just enough for what he needed.”

Harry stared at his father’s weary face. “Was he here tonight?”

His father nodded. “He brought his worthless friend with him from the city. They needed money. I wouldn’t hand over the money in the register. Callum’s friend was going to shoot me. But then Callum pulled out his own gun and shot first.”

Harry’s father never cried but tears started to trickle down his cheeks. “I told him to leave the gun and run. He looked at me and asked why I didn’t call the sheriff all those years ago when he was stealing candy. Then he said he wished I would have. That he hoped I would every time he stole something. And then he just ran out the door.”

Author's Note: This story was written for the Spring 2025 Microfiction Writing Battle.