fuzzy . chaos
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- Posted: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 03:46:00 +0000
Essie
I like convenience stores. It’s very convenient to take things, when you know they have no way of stopping you. They never see it coming, or leaving. No one ever cares it’s gone.
I play a game of buy one get one here. I picked a can of Monster out in the back of the store. I took my wallet out of my purse, like I was checking if I have the money for it. I took the money, too.
Cities are nice. Everyone’s always busy, always distracted. Pick-pocketing is almost like an art. You have to have the right kind of setting, the right kind of subject.
I’d have to find more. I had $6.00 and a jolly rancher. I took three dollars out, and slipped the Monster into my purse like it was my wallet. I took another Monster…
…And turned around to go to the register. The line was short, only one person. They were wearing a fatally faded black T-shirt, and loose-fitting jeans—a guy.
He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a clip of money. It wasn’t even a wallet, and it was in his back pocket. I just knew this guy was rich, or stupid—most likely stupid.
He put the rest of his money back in his pocket. The bill on the outside was a twenty.
By the time the man behind the counter told him to have a nice day, he was practically gone. The door slowly closed behind him. He looked very busy.
I bought the monster nonchalantly, smiling sweetly at the middle-aged man and meeting his eyes.
“You have a nice evening,” he smiled at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other guy take a left, on foot.
“You, too,” I smiled politely, again, and swept out the door like I had somewhere to be.
I kept a brisk pace, but I couldn’t run. If I ran it would attract attention—even his attention.
I was surprised to see that he wasn’t far away. He carried a grocery bag in each hand, as if he bought his groceries at convenience stores. I walked naturally. After all, it’s a coincidence that we’re going in the same direction. There are a few people on the sidewalk, but not too many to the point where they’d see.
The sun was setting. I noticed a red, paisley-print bandana sticking out of one of his pockets. I set my eyes on the cash, as it was sticking out of his other pocket. Too easy. Just before he turned to cut between two buildings, I plucked it from his pocket without touching him, without making a sound.
He spun around like lightning and his hand clamped around my wrist. I don’t understand how he caught me, there’s no way he could’ve felt it. He was holding my wrist too tight, and it hurt.
“Don’t be stupid,” he warned me, meeting my eyes with silent menace. I was lost for words.
“What?” I asked, feeling the sweat bead on my face. His fist squeezed tighter—I was losing the feeling in my hand. I had to get away from him before he hit me or called the cops. My vision fluttered as I dove in and attacked him. I noticed a single freckle above his brow before my lips reached. My mouth caressed his like a lover’s, and his hand dropped along with his jaw. I’m sure he thought I was insane. I could feel his breath, questioning what had happened, trying to tell me it had happened too fast; begging me to take it back. But I didn’t.
I moved one foot in position before breaking away. I ran, ran as fast as I could, to the nearest place I could find. Once I was far enough away to where I knew he wouldn’t follow, I collapsed on the bench at the bus stop there. I figured, I can find my way home, wherever this is. After all, I had eighty-three dollars in cash.
