A Trusting Soul
I was leaving the restaurant after having lunch with my best friend the other day when a woman, who had followed us out the door laden with to-go bags, stood in the surface-of-the-sun midday heat of Texas trying to juggle the bags with one hand and her purse with another.
I started to get in my car when I noticed she was in some distress.
“Can you help me?” she asked.
I shut the car door and walked over to her.
“I can’t find my keys. Can you just pull my purse open and stick your hand in there and see if you can find them?” she asked, the sweat pouring off her brow (and mine now, we had after all been in the sun for 30 seconds).
I did as she asked finding the keys immediately and all the while wondering what the hell she was thinking.
I’m no thief, but if I were I could in that moment have reached into her purse and taken her wallet and her keys and been gone in an instant.
I’m so jaded.
I’m also stupid, because it wasn’t until after I got in and started my car that I remembered something. The same something that made a total stranger feel comfortable letting another total stranger rummage through her purse.
The table we’d passed on the way out, with eight cops sitting there eating lunch.
This is just one more reason I can’t be a criminal. I got no game.