The First Time

The first time he had stolen a piece of art it was from his friend's mother. It was a piece of fertility art from Africa. He was eleven and just discovering bodies: his, his classmates, his friend's mother. He had no idea why the figure made him tingle inside when he touched it, but it did and that was enough to make him slip it into his backpack.

He hid it under his bed at home, in a box filled with action figures, baseball cards, die cast cars and airplanes. A general junk box. For nearly two weeks he stroked the sculpture as he lay in bed wondering what the strange things were happening to him. One morning he awoke and realized he had fallen asleep with it in his hands. But in the morning it was gone, and he could not ask about it. Not of his mother. She might wonder what he did with it, or where it had come from.