Jasper watched the sun sink on the horizon, still sitting precariously on the edge of the two-story building. It took with it the lazy, heavy heat of day, and with the crisp chill came a sense of hopelessness. No one could help him, he knew. No one knew how it felt to be Jasper, a boy who had nothing of his own. Not even a last name! He was on his own in the world, a man-- using the term loosely-- in control of his own fate.
With these thoughts weighing on his mind, he decided to do something rather risky. Something he'd never done before. He knew he could steal from one of the cars in the dusty lot; he was small, shifty, and ordinary in a way that helped most to overlook him. His senses served him well. He could hear if someone was stepping to the left, or the right. He saw, with a single glance, the way people were positioned, and he knew what they were seeing from where they stood. He could feel their weight with every footfall. He'd seen teenagers break into cars before, and he knew how it was done. He knew there was one doctor who, on many days, did his grocery shopping before work. Jasper had seen him do it before. Food could be seen peeking out from the cloth bags: pasta, bread, juice, fruits, canned goods, and even chocolate sometimes. He knew what he needed to know, But did he dare? Yes, Jasper decided. I'll do what I need to do.
So he scampered down the rickety fire escape, holding his breath until he was safely on the ground. He walked across the lot to where the staffers kept their cars, and pulled out a slender knife from his pocket. He had it wedged into the doorjamb when he felt an angry hand grab his shoulder.
"What do you think you're doing to my car?"