It was a friday, I hated fridays the village crowded in the high summer heat and that’s last thing anyone wants or want to be, from where I was my place in the cool shade wasn’t to bad but it did stink of bodies all of them sweating from morning work, is just enough to make milk curdle. When I looked up at the sky the air shimmer with heat and humidity and every puddle from yesterday's storm are hot with swirling rainbow streaks of oil and grease. Markets deflates with everyone closing up their stalls for the day as I watched from my shade, merchants distracted careless makes it easy for me to take whatever I want from their wares but by the time I’m done, my pockets are filled with trinkets and an good apple for the road. Not bad for my few minutes’ of work but as people move I let myself be take away by the human current as my hands dart in and out always in fleeting touches with some paper bills from a man’s pocket , a bracelet from a woman’s wrist but nothing to big. Some