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Yoda's Karma

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?It was simple, he just had to put it down his socks. Nobody would notice. It was just a five dollar action figure, no one would even care. Right? He tightened his grip on the handles as he bounded over the sidewalk’s bumps and cracks. He just had to slip it down his socks, that was it. He pulled up to the front of the store, squeezing the hot metal of his break levers tight. The bike wheels stopped turning and he slid off, rubbing his palms together.

He walked into the store, a rush of cool air blasting his face and telling him to get out. An employee, fat and underpaid sat next to the exit, his nose buried in a discount magazine. By passing the employee he headed to aisle 5. Aisle five was all StarWars, it was like stepping straight into the movie. If he closed his eyes he could hear the buzz of lightsabers whirling through the air and the droids’ feet clanging against the floor. His hands brushed not the plastic of toy containers, but the leaves of far-away of plants. He was with the Ewoks, not toy store employees.

Sweat beaded at the back of his neck and dripped down his spine. His hands brushed bits that had snuck down his arms onto the tiled floor. He could do it. He grabbed the miniature Yoda, curling his fingers around it. His head flipped back and forth, like a puppy who has just stolen table scraps might do. Finding himself alone, he bent down as if to tie his shoe. The points of the figurine’s ears poked his palm as he slid it into the white tunnel formed by the sock.

With his hands shoved in his pockets he strolled back to the front. He tried to smile. His lips melted down at the corners due to sweat tugging at them. The red-headed cashier glanced over at him. She knew. She had to know. He ducked his head, letting his hair cover his eyes. She couldn’t know. Maybe if he ran back and put it back now, the cops wouldn’t get him. The cops wouldn’t arrest him, would they? He couldn’t survive in jail, there were murderers and criminal people there, they would eat him alive.

He looked back at the cashier to see if she was calling the cops. Her white tipped nails were sliding items over the scanner not dialing 911. He was free, no one knew. The cops weren’t going to lock him up.He ran through the doors, ignoring the sloth with its nose in a magazine. No one could catch him, especially not someone like that lazy blob.

He wanted to whip out the Yoda and shove it between the guy’s face and paper. He wanted to show just how sneaky he was. No one had seen him and no one could catch him. He walked out the doors, a spring of confidence in his step. He walked towards his bike, eager to get home and play with his ill gotten gains. He reached to grab the handle, but his hand fell through the air.

The bike was gone, all there was was empty space. He looked along the storefront, trying to find it. Maybe someone had just moved it or hid it. He ran around the corner, finding nothing. He raced around the other and again was met with emptiness.

Karama had snatched it up and taken it for a never ending ride in the body of some teenager, He had traded his bike for a five dollar figurine and a few miles walk home. If only he had just paid or just never come at all.

He leaned against the wall and slid down it. Taking the Yoda out of his sock, he turned it around in his hands. Had it really been worth it?



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