The Thief: Part 1

A man strolled down the street, quite briskly, with a weary, moist hand and ebony black shoes. He had a wallet in his left pocket which bulged out of the cloth. It was beefed up with money and coins, as for the man was old and did not know how to use cards and electronics. Just when he turned over the bend where an apple tree grew, he stopped himself from traveling any further. There was rustling in the bushes, as a raccoon popped out of it and scurried towards the other side of the road to the side of the bend. Just when when the old man sighed in relief, he felt something slipping out from his left pocket, and when he turned back, he caught a glimpse of a boy, in his teens, with a red hoodie rushing away from him.

“Thief! Thief!” the man called out, but the street was deserted.

No one heard him..

“What would I tell Bertha? Oh, what would I tell Bertha?” he muttered, his hands trembling on his wrinkled forehead.

He stepped up the porch steps andante the wooden porch. The moon was bright, its silver-white rays casting a shadow on Purrs, his cat, who was sleeping right of the door. After removing his shoes nearby his pet, the man tip-toed inside and placed his coat on a stool. He quietly went up the stairs and reached the bedroom. He looked himself in the mirror: his usual, blue Louis Armstrong shirt donned on him and a CITIZEN watch tightly gripping his wrists and never letting go. His grayish-black hair needed some more dye. His wife called him from below, as he paced back-and-forth before the bed, trying to make up a story for his wallet snatched by a thief. As he completed his thought, he casually raced down the steps, and sat on a barstool as his wife was cooking in front of him.

“What happened, Walter? What about your usual greeting from when you get back” Bertha asked.

“Oh sorry, I just forgot. Had busy day.” Walter replied.

“Did you get the money from the bank?” Bertha inquired.

“Uhhh…” Walter was about to lie, but then realized the shock Bertha will be in if she finds out he was robbed after a while, so he decided to explain the truth.

“I got robbed.” Walter confessed.

“Don’t joke, Walter,” Bertha mentioned, softly laughing, but when the man’s eyes drooped down, she understood.

“Oh my.. oh my, we live on our son’s money and you have a tiny to to afford extra meals, but, but, what will happen now?” Bertha sobbed and then fainted.

“No, Bertha!” Walter cried, rushing to his wife.