The Way Things Are Done in America

For some, it takes a tragedy for them to change their perspective

"You will pay for this with cash or credit card, please?"

He didn't like the man behind the counter, He was foreign, Indian or something. Tony didn't care; he just wasn't American. "Cash," he muttered, handing the clerk a hundred dollar bill.

"I can't do change on this."

"Oh for chrissakes, I know you got a drawer full o twenties back there. Money's money here in America; don't be a jerk."

"I cannot." He pointed to a sign taped to the counter.

We Do Not Accept Cash Above $50.
We Thank Your Patience

Tony growled and tossed two twenty dollar bills on the counter. He waited impatiently for his change, snatched his cigarettes and lottery tickets up from the counter and hurried out of the store. Ahmed, the clerk, just shook his head slightly, long since having been desensitized to such xenophobia.

He had turned back to straighten the display of scratch-off lottery tickets when he heard the squealing of tires, a thud, and breaking glass. A car had smashed into one of the barred windows on the front of the small gas station convenience store! Ahmed was startled, but he didn't freeze. He had been a medic in the army, and he understood that he had to act fast to perhaps save lives.

After checking on the driver and finding her dazed but relatively unhurt, Ahmed saw Tony trapped under the front of the car. He saw blood pouring from a jagged gash in Tony's arm. He stood, removed his belt, and applied it as a tourniquet. Tony's bleary eyes focused on him. Ahmed thought he saw shame there... or maybe it was just pain. In either case, Ahmed leaned down and said calmly. "We must watch over one another, brother: this is how we do it in America."

NOTES: ▶︎

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "You will pay for this"