Personal Narrative: Double Sacrifice

Standing in front of the TV, watching the morning news before getting a refill on his coffee. Andrew Barnes declared, “Thanks to the warm rain we had last night, it’s going to be another hot sticky day.” Getting his attention, the announcer said, “We are going live to our reporter at the scene of the double homicide in Jackson Heights.”
“Early yesterday afternoon, police found an elderly couple, viciously murdered in their home on Olive Avenue. They identified them as Mr. Mrs. Stevens. According to a neighbor, their grandson lived with them, but he was not at home when the police arrived. Janet Stonewood, reporting for WFSNTV in Baltimore. Back to you in the studio.” +++ “Oh, my God! Bert and Nellie are my customers, but where is Kenny?

By the time, he had driven a few blocks the air-conditioner had kicked in, he was comfortable. Driving down Maple Avenue on his way to Howard’s Drug Store, where he had worked as a pharmacist for more than forty years. At sixty-four years of age, the thought of working with the nasty clients for another couple of years before retiring was more than Andrew wanted. While driving up the street, listening to the radio. Andrew slowed down and rolled down the window to watch the deer grazing in the open field. He loved the smell of clean air after a summer rain. Stopping at a crosswalk, Andrew waited until several children had crossed the street. Staring at the smiling, energetic boys and girls, he wondered how many of them would grow up without any unpleasant childhood memories. Andrew prayed they would never experience the pain and horror he knew as a child. After they had gotten on the school bus, he went on to the drug store. Driving into the parking lot, he recognized the white BMW and parked beside it. I am too old to put up with her crap this morning. Perhaps, I am wrong.He thought while trying to rationalize his behavior during the past few months. After locking his silver Mercedes he crossed the parking lot, swinging the keys in his hand. Entering the pharmacy, he noticed Linda Gunderman, an elderly woman standing in line with her

“I’m sorry, my grandson knocked them over,” she said and continued picking up boxes. “No Ma’am, he didn’t, I bumped the display with the forklift. I’ll pick them up,” he said and started picking up boxes.
Staring at the boxes, she was holding in her hand, she threw them on the floor, and said, sarcastically. “Well, if that’s your job, get busy.”
“You are so mean, and I hate you,” Billy shouted, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Without apologizing to the clerk, Linda remained in line as the boy cried. “You’re horrible, and I hate you,” he screamed again as she tried unsuccessfully to quiet him.
“I hate living with you.” Listening as his longtime customer yelled and degraded the boy. Andrew wanted to slap her and tell her to stop screaming. “At least, this time I’m not getting the abuse.” Still, he felt sorry for Billy and knew what he had to do. Instead, of yelling at Linda, he went to the file, picked up a handful of prescriptions and separated them. “Gail, make sure you remind me when you give me Linda’s order,” Andrew asked his clerk. “It will be my pleasure to take care of her.” Smiling, he glanced at the locked