She’d given up smoking a year ago, because she couldn’t afford it and community college. Or anything else for that matter. Books cost a fortune. Food wasn’t exactly cheap, either. But sometimes people tucked money in their packs—she used to. Besides, pickpocketing kept her skills sharp, and in this case it wasn’t really going to harm anyone. Her stop was coming up, and she waited for the bounce that always occurred as the bus crossed this particular intersection . . . Then, “Sorry,” she said, accidentally bumping into the man as she rose from her seat. She moved toward the front, holding on to the handrail. As the bus slowed, then stopped, she hurried down the steps, and the door swished closed behind her, sending a slight gust of air at her back as the bus took off. The cigarette pack felt slightly heavier than it should, and she was curious, but figured it wasn’t wise to open it there, in case the guy discovered it missing too soon.
