Time for tiny treats from around the world - bits of sweet and savory and maybe even sour all in bite-sized chunks from some of my favorite authors…

And here’s a bite of my own which might end up a series of stories, and might or might not be the first in the series (not sure yet!) But I hope you enjoy getting to know my thief -

Scroll to the bottom for links to the other stories!

Thief

I don’t like to steal from my co-workers, but sometimes— sometimes need outweighs want. Especially when magic is involved.

This time, it started in the break room.

I’d been intending on a quick, quiet lunch, but when I walked into the space, someone else occupied it and their lunch smelled like fish.

Ew.

“Oh, hey, Tia.” Her voice rough, her eyes red with crying and a hint of hopelessness, and— as she turned away from me— the Bvlgari watch on her wrist flashing.

In that moment, despite the fish, I wanted.

And started to plan.

We didn’t work on the same team, so I’d have to do it arriving at work, or leaving, or lunch.

Not this lunch, though. If I was caught, it would break the magic. If someone noticed but didn’t have quite enough to accuse me— sheer awkwardness.

So I watched her for days, plotted my attack, did a couple dry runs, then committed.

After one of those big rah-rah sales meetings, I just happened to walk out in the same group, just happened to have parked my quiet little Camry next to her shimmering blue four-door Tesla.

Matched our paths as more and more of the crowd peeled off. Found the surveillance cameras’ blind spot.

Reached—

My cell phone vibrated.

Only thing more important than stealing was not being caught, so all in the same breath, I drew my phone from my pocket, circled around the front of my car instead of the back, and answered, “Hello, Sunshine!”

“Mom, you wouldn’t believe—”

I let my daughter’s voice wash over me, wash away the burning need, as she shared the minutia of her college day and I walked away from the theft I’d planned and planned.

*

Of course, I didn’t give up. I told you— need, not want.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a matter of pushing back a day and going with the same plan.

Sarah called in sick for the rest of the week.

Whenever I despaired, I pictured it again— the hitch in her voice, the crying, the hopelessness, the watch— and resolved to be patient.

She finally showed up on a Friday, right before lunchtime.

“Tia, Tia, Tia—” My boss had noticed me watching Sarah. And from the look on her face, my boss had also noticed my lackluster performance this week.

All the excuses rushed to escape. I cut them off, pressing my lips closed. Blinked hard to form up some tears. Waited.

She hesitated, derailed from scolding. “Everything okay?”

“Some personal stuff,” I quavered bravely.

“Do you want to take some time off?”

Leave before Sarah? Miss what might be my last opportunity? No!

That would look great— me lurking near Sarah’s car instead of going home. Popping up when she opened her door and slipping past— stealing—

Politely, “No, thank you.”

“Then clock out and go to lunch,” the boss said sharply. She softened her tone and continued, “Get your head on straight. Then get back here and focus. Finish something so I can justify not writing you up.”

I could do that. Finish something. Lunch— my fingertips itched. If Sarah came into the break room, I could steal it then.

Today, the break area smelled inexplicably like spaghetti, though none of the five other people in it were eating spaghetti. I nodded a casual hello, ate my salad, read my book, lingered past when I should have and lingered until just before a reprimand—

Hustled back to my desk, only to have a coworker pop her head over the divider. “Did you hear? She quit! Took her check and went!”

Right— more than just my boss had noticed my attention. Getting sloppy.

Then the words really hit me. She’d quit? Left the building, never coming back?

Dammit.

Missed my chance.

*

Pure happenstance saved me.

That and a lovely cool slushy on a hot day.

I snuck into the closest gas-and-snacks and she walked in after me, towing a little boy. No Tesla in the parking lot, just a jacked up black truck.

Every nerve on my body lit up, but I got my drink, watched Sarah and her boy get a few snacks. Watched her swing her long hair over the left side of her face.

She’d done a great job with her makeup, but unless you have the right shades, it’s hard to truly cover up a bruise that spectacular. And in the shape of a handprint.

Maybe a bruise under that watch, too.

Need thrummed in me and my focus narrowed.

In the snack isle, I brushed against her, elbow to elbow.

Stole the swell of hopelessness.

Grabbed some peanuts to go with my slushee and headed to the counter to pay.

A giant of a man took my cash, and when our fingertips touched, I stole from him too— not much, just the edges of the need to not get involved. He was mostly there anyway— he’d noticed the handprint. All I did was nudge.

Then I turned and watched as Sarah’s chin came up and her lips thinned and she found the courage that had been smothered under hopelessness. She couldn’t look the convenience store clerk in the eye, but she still whispered, “Do you have a back exit?”

The clerk-turned-hero nodded. “Back that way, ma’am,” he murmured, “And I have a friend who likes to help in these situations. A woman. If you’re willing to wait a bit. She’ll take care of everything. He won’t be able to find you.”

Sarah took a tighter grip on her little boy’s hand, but she nodded and slipped to the back of the store.

The hero stepped outside. Despite the size of the truck, loomed over Sarah’s husband until he fled with a squeal of tires.

Two thefts for the price of one. Maybe three— four?— if I counted stealing a wife and son from the abusive asshole.

A good day.

Check out the other stories here:

Spam or Not Spam, That is the Question! by Katharina Gerlach
Two Feet by Chris Makowski
Trampler of Dreams by Gina Fabio
Good Dog by Angelica Medlin
She Stood by Lyn McCarty
Not all Heros Wear Capes by Vanessa Wells
Morning Monsters by Jon Cloud
Some Imagination by James Husum