Looking for Trouble

by Misha Horne

Here I was, thief carved into my bones, and the one thing I wanted most I couldn’t steal.

But it wasn’t right for me to take from him this way. Wasn’t right for me to get pleasure out of punishment, or out of him helping me, or out of watching him sit on the porch at night. Not when he didn’t know how I really felt about it. About him. Wasn’t right for either of us. I couldn’t take kindness from a man that gave this much of himself. It would make me the worst kind of thief.