[First-person narration. Do not read if you dislike it.]
When I was twelve, I found a wallet in a funeral hall.
The money was untouched. A note inside had eight words: The money is stolen. Return both it and the thief.
When I was sixteen, I stole the fastest thief in the city.
He clutched my wrist and said, “You're faster than me.”
From then on, I became a thief's apprentice. I learned the trade, and searched for the thief who had stolen my mother.
I learned to identify fish, pick locks, and follow the Three Things You Must Never Steal: money needed to save a life, from schoolchildren, or from fellow thieves.
Until I discovered that the hand I hated was exactly like my master's.
I'm not teaching you to steal.
I only want to share the simplest truth my life has taught me: out of every hundred people, ninety-nine are thieves. In this world, watch your pockets.
