The Thief

 

     The need is growing again. I can feel it swelling as I move through these narrow aisles. Not much. Just one title to spirit away. My other birds need company. There are enough limp greens in my wallet to buy it. That is never the issue. It is, as they say, the thrill -- the chance of discovery. There are times I might buy one only to have another secreted somewhere on my person. He thinks he knows. But he has never caught me. It is easier this time of year, with the great big pockets in overcoats still available for concealing. I choose one and then wait for my moment. I can slip out the door barely making the bells sing. Hurried footsteps carry me beyond the glass window and around the corner. Sitting at the counter in the coffee shop, I picture him throwing the door open. Those bells must toss angrily side to side as he looks left and right. But I’ve already disappeared into the crowd along with a whiff of diesel fuel. I have not read a single one of these.