Theft

Clip - 268 words

Sarah Van Name

It’s been seven months and my roommate still doesn’t know that I steal from her. We have an amiable day-to-day relationship, occasionally share homework woes, and tend to turn out the lights between twelve and one on school nights. But I am a secretly a bandit.

It started one Tuesday when I had a paper due and needed a paper clip. Going college shopping, my mom and I had made sure to buy all the recommended items – shower caddy, desk lamp, AA batteries – but had neglected the schooling basics. I stole a paper clip while she was filling up her water bottle.

A few weeks later, I spotted a half-open bag of sour gummi worms on her desk while she was out at dinner. Two of the red and blue, one orange and green. The next Thursday, the pen lying on her desk when I was late for class, though mine was in plain sight. I had seen her write with that pen, and it had such a delicious, full black ink.

These are all minor things, which I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded had I told her, but it grew. One night I drank two bottles of her root beer and told her I had only seen three in the refrigerator. My kleptomania culminated last week when I stole her three-subject blank notebook, sunglasses, and study abroad informational booklet in one fell swoop.

We’re going to hug goodbye in a month, never friends but never enemies, and she’ll never know that I was the mystery responsible. And this summer, my eyes will be protected from the sun.

All the Pretty Girls - Fun