Bernard ran. He didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was the simple objective of getting away. Once he was sure he had drifted far enough from the starting point, he stopped abruptly at a near by park bench. Heaving over, he took a few solid moments to slow the pounding heart that revolted to the caging of his chest. Once this task was completed, he greedily dumped the contents of his prize.

What was this? The question roared through Bernard’s head like a flame making him want to scream in frustration. Their was nothing of any value here! He waded through the sea of wrappers and school notices. The bag in his possession must have belonged to the most disgusting and vile of the slobs. Their was no particular rhyme of reason to the endless clutter. She seemed to posses a book fetish, for he hardly found it practical for a normal person to carry around five reading books.

The thief found his curiosity lift at the sight of a small blue journal with the letter H engraved on the front cover. He thumbed through the unintelligible scrawl. The little he could make out, however, contained everything from various quotes, to lists, self help methods, and intros to abandoned stories. Much like the bag, it held no organization.

Bernard couldn’t help but to grimace as he abandoned the journal and, upon continuing his search, pulled out two unmatching socks. He dropped them and forced himself to dig deeper through the rubble.
He found a brush, an unused planner, writing utensils, napkins, and a cheap cell phone that he threw aside with the rest of the junk.

Finally he came across a beacon of hope, encompassed in a small polka dotted change purse.
The wallet, however, only contained a crumpled twenty and a slightly bent bank card, among five pounds of change and an endless bounty of receipts.

Cutting his losses, Bernard pocketed the wallet and ditched the rest, making a mental note to never again steal from such a clearly deranged person.