Personal Narrative-Tale Heart

We’re hurried down the street by Ans’ mother, practically running to keep up with Ans’ long strides and quick pace. All along the street, people poke their heads out, confused, though some are well on their way, the ones with work, I presume.

The streets are soon crowded with mother and fathers, elderly men and women, teens and babies, small children and young adults. Now, we are no longer moving of our own accord, rather being swept along by the tide of human flesh. Now is the perfect time, I know pickpockets must be in the midst of this crowd, searching for an opportunity, and I believe I might have found one.

A woman holds a small stack of papers. Ration cards. She’s not gripping them very tightly, they’re just barely held between her fingertips, almost as if she’s afraid to touch them. I seize my chance, slipping the ration cards from her fingers quickly. It’s like she never had them. I slip the small stack into my pocket. Until I get home, I tell myself. …show more content…
I seize another opportunity, snatching an apple from a nearby stand. My movements are quick and sharp, fleeting touches, near perfection after years of use and practice. I’ve gotten caught a few times, lucky I can run. There’s no telling what the security officers can do to me if I’m caught. They might just drag me off, to where they take the other rulebreakers, let me starve of serve a terribly painful death. Neither sounds