The boy’s whisper was barely audible over the supermarket din, his lips scarcely moving: “Watch his left pocket.” The cashier, trained to notice the smallest details in the flurry of transactions, shifted her focus to the man’s left side. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something metallic, partially obscured by the fabric of his coat. It was enough.

Her knee pressed against the emergency button beneath the counter, triggering a silent alarm that resonated through the store’s security system like a muted cry for help. She maintained eye contact with the man, her smile unwavering, even as anxiety knotted her stomach. Inwardly, she counted the seconds, hoping the response would be swift.