The Thief Carver

In every pocket there’s a loose coin, in every house, there’s a missing object, through every window there’s an opportunity. I tried living honestly; I made honest coins and had life’s pleasures at my fingertips until I discovered the pleasures of life in… how should I put it? In different ways. Life has more meaning if you’ve striven toward it, I gave up trying a long time ago; I stopped giving a shit about their living. If you can’t join then… well, beat them.

He slips into my bunker, his blues examine me, his broad figure shifts uncomfortably in the tight space, “Is that so?” He nods… “Yeah, I have a position for you, if you’re interested…” “I’m listening,” He pushes a file into my hands, “You’re joking, right? This job is impossible…” “Are you running scared now? I thought you were the best thief there is,” I tilt… “I’m not risking my neck for what… a few gold pieces? No way, I’m occupied as it is,” He chuckles, shifting backward, “Is that so? Let’s just say it’s a few thousand gold pieces,”