365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

333. Bank

333. Banking: Write about visiting the bank.

"It was one of the worst bank heists in history. Millions of dollars worth of gold was stolen. Three people died from gunshot wounds and more were injured. No one was ever caught.

"It was a mystery. Only two people alive knew what really happened: the one who committed the robbery... and me."

"But grandma--"

She shushed him and touched the thin gold chain hanging around her neck. "You've seen me wear this, haven't you?" she demanded.

"I -- yes, but --"

It was just one of those things that grandmothers wore. That piece of jewelry that completed the look of grandmotherhood.

"He gave it to me," she went on. "The man who robbed the bank. He gave it to me to seal my silence and also... also because he wanted to."

The rest of the gold chain was hidden underneath her shirt. She didn't pull it out and he didn't ask her to. It didn't matter, because he didn't believe her. "I really don't think," he began uncomfortably, "That it's good to tell tales."

"Robert," she said sternly. "You know better to throw all of your belief at something because it's probable. My story is neither probable nor likely, but it's true."

"I -- whatever you say, Grandma." It was useless to debate the point with her.

She shook her gray-flecked head in disappointment. "What has that lawyer school done to you?" She then pointed imperiously to the bookshelf in her tiny living room. "Go get that green one titled The Newford Bank Murders."

He heaved a sign, letting her know he thought the whole affair ridiculous, but he retrieved it for her.

"If you don't believe my word of honor," she said, opening the book, "Then I will have to convince you. Sit down, Robert, we're going to be here for awhile."

"I have a class in two hours," he said.

"What's more important: knowledge or truth? Besides, don't you have to argue an unsolved case for extra credit? I'm trying to help you."

He shook his head and plopped down. He couldn't miss his class. That was for sure. It was difficult enough to keep his grades up to par when the par was set by certifiable geniuses like his classmates.

"I'm listening," Robert said.

She smiled in a satisfied way, having his attention, and ran her hands along the first page. "We'll have to go back a ways for you to understand. Back to when I was a little girl. The year was 1932..."