The Pretty Thief

A true love story.

She had held his hand, moments before they met. She had appeared beside him, held his hand, rested her head on his shoulder and whispered " pretend to love me".

He would later say that it was the intensity of her grasp and the curious scent of cinnamon wafting from her curls that had left him feeling it best to do as she said. He would also say that after he had wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her cranium, he had whispered "I do love you" and not felt as though he was pretending at all.

That bold move had earnt him his first date, sat atop a rooftop, eating stolen doughnuts. She had counted herself lucky to have evaded the bakers security- he had counted himself lucky to have run out of eggs that morning.

He wasn't usually one for petty thieves, or spontaneity, or eggs for that matter... but from that moment on he was one for her.

In fact, he was the only one for her she'd reminisce with scarlet cheeks and fireworks in her eyes... even in her eighties, when you would have thought there wasn't enough blood flowing to recreate a scene of such youthful love.

- R. Bailey