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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
your ordinary day at the mall.

Submitted: September 04, 2016

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Submitted: September 04, 2016



How strange it is to know something someone else doesn't. 

Her, with the blue cap on backwards, she doesn't know my name. But I know that she's a pick pocketer's next target. 

How strange that they know something she doesn't. Her wallet went missing 4 steps ago. 

Two men in reflective vests run past me as the pick pocketer ducked into a store just moments before. It's strange that when he exits the store, he doesn't know of the men. 

Only the teenage boy in the coffee shop knows the pick pocketer left the store. The other boys, who are clearly not his friends, know that in the boy's drink is a packet of salt. 

The mother at the other table knows that they are from an underprivileged school. But the waiter finds it strange when she pays for their meal. 

How strange that the child who was just scolded by the mother knows where the wallet went, but the manager doesn't. 

An older man holds the door open for a distressed lady. He knows, but she doesn't, that it's the first time he's walking through the door. 

Standing across the street he counts his money. Glancing up to see a police car with its sirens blazing. 

She tugges her cap off because in the wallet was her last paycheck. 

The boys down the street run from the bill, the manager. 

The mom grabs her child's hand before she walks off into traffic. 

Eyeing all the people on the street, the men in reflective vests glance over me. 

How strange that two steps into the street was all it took for...

She knew my name. 

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