Written by Jess Knaus

Fin grabbed the small, round device and shoved it in his pocket. He’d never stolen anything before but somehow his body went into automatic override – he couldn’t control it. 

With his heart trying to escape his chest and his throat tightening, he pretended to browse through surrounding trestle tables, keeping an eye on the lady and her cash tin near the garage door. She had taken no notice. 

He flicked through old records, selecting one at random to buy for 20 cents. Keeping his eyes lowered he indicated his choice of item, handed over his coin, and waited to be exposed for his crime. But that never came. 

He turned to walk on, determined the police would be around the next corner. He was sure he walked like a criminal now. Instead he was pursued by the shadow of his adrenalin-fuelled anxiety – his now relentless stalker. He had discovered an unknown part of himself – the thief. His capabilities seemed boundless, and it felt… exciting.

But only the first part was done, he had to keep moving. Once out of sight he let it fall out of his body – hands shaking, trembling in his breathing, his guts turning. He’d stolen something for the first time and he hadn’t been caught.

But now it burned in his pocket. He needed to take it to the cemetery – this wasn’t over yet. He picked up his pace. 

He turned the last corner, crossed the road and skipped up the steps to the cemetery. Climbing the unkempt graves his eyes scanned for the freshest white marble headstone. There, by the large tree – beeline. Reaching into his pocket he felt the cold, circular pocket watch and its chain shifting around. He pulled it out, assessing the scratched face. It didn’t work, but that didn’t matter. He propped it at the base of the headstone, facing north toward the midday sun. 

‘I found this for you Grandpa,’ he said aloud. 

Sitting down and crossing his legs, he let the warm summer breeze roll across his face. The grass surrounding the graves had grown long, as each blade lolled around, dancing in response to the air. Breathing deep, he finally returned to calm. It was the first moment he’d had, just Grandpa and him, in a long time. But he was alone for only a short while.

‘Hey,’ he heard a soft voice say. He turned to see his sister, grubby t-shirt and bird’s nest hair, dawdling toward him.

He smiled, ‘coming to see Grandpa too?’

‘Yeah,’ she replied, crossing her legs by his side. They sat shoulder to shoulder, in soft, joyous silence.

Eventually she noticed the watch.

‘Is that…?’ she asked.

‘It’s not the exact one he had, but looked pretty close,’ he replied.

‘Where’d you get it?’ she enquired.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he blurted, suddenly defensive. That was the thief.

She got the point, and returned to observing the grave. After a little while she stood up.

‘Anyway, I gotta get back. Back here at Christmas?’ she asked.

He nodded, saying farewell to his sister for the next three months. As she turned she waved, ‘Happy Birthday Grandpa’.

A few moments later he himself stood up, brushed off the grass and said farewell, before walking back through the graves toward the street and home again – a different way than the way he came.