The bank robber had planned everything meticulously. He had studied the bank's security system, timed the guards' movements, and knew the layout of the vault inside out. He was confident that he could execute the robbery without a hitch.
But as he stood there, holding his gun, facing the terrified
bank employees, something inside him shifted. He began to question everything –
Why was he doing this? What was the point of it all? Was robbing banks just
another way of distracting him from his real existential problems?
He looked around the bank, taking in the fear and panic on
the faces of the employees. He could see the tellers trembling as they handed
over the money. He could hear the sobs of people who had collapsed in fear.
Suddenly, the gun in his hand felt heavy and pointless. He
felt like he was suffocating in the midst of all this chaos. He couldn't do it
anymore.
Without saying a word, he lowered his gun and walked out of
the bank, while rigorously introspecting upon Sisyphus, Plato, and the meaning
of existence.
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