It was a gloomy night in the rural country. Faintly, three small, shadowy figures treaded on a winding road, occasionally skipping. A slight breeze shifted across the fields, and the thick corn pasture swayed in the wind.

            “So, how did y’all like the trip to the theater?” asked the carefree one, with hands crossed behind her head.

            “It was…great, but…” the small one, clutching a wallet too large for his hands and peeking inside, disappointedly, “We really shouldn’t do this anymore. I mean…we barely have any change lef—”

            “Stop with your pointless mumbling!” demanded the stout one, about to start another clamor in a typical fashion, “You ain’t done any labor, so you ain’t got no share in the end for us, and still you complain? Is it not crystal clear to you, already?”

            “Come on, don’t blame him over that,” protested the girl, “we all have a part in this. After all, that money’s what all of us gathered—”

            “And you, YOU’RE standing up for him?” roiled the stout boy, “Forget whose idea was it to sneak out to the theater in the first place?”

            The littlest one, frustratedly, did not even bother in these arguments anymore. Sitting down on the coarse gravel, he lowered his head, sleepily and numbly, mingling with his fingers.

            But the wallet was behind him.

            Amongst the chatter, no one noticed the rustling sound of the maize, growing, until…

            A slender, crooked shadow darted from the bushes, grabbed the puny wallet, and was hidden from view in a flash. Its features were completely invisible in the dark, yet the children thought they knew exactly what it was: a despicable tramp of immense greed, masked and ill-willed; one who would steal their only savings.

            A few shouts faintly echoed, but to no avail, as the figure fled towards the decrepit building that they always avoided. Under the merciless wind of the starless night, even the moon shivered and vanished behind the grey clouds.

One of them took out an antique phone, and dialed…

***

            About the fields went by an aged, filthy car, a full display of the owner’s carelessness. Its driver, with a countenance likewise suggestive of his nature, steered the wheel absently-mindedly with one hand. With the other, he flung a cigarette into a dirty ashtray, three already piled inside. A wallet laid on the backseat, close to falling; he seemed to have thrown it there in a great hurry, or in a careless impulse.

            But the uniform he wore was jet-black, and so was the car’s exterior. On his belt were a taser and handcuffs, both legitimate. On the right seat was a perfectly functional handheld receiver, and under the great filth that the car bore, there was no mistake that the letters spelled “POLICE”.

His walkie-talkie registered. “Another one? Jesus, what is it?” yelled the officer,  annoyedly into the device after picking it up violently, “Burglary? AGAIN? Are you kidding me?”

Neither the loud sounds of the car’s obsolete engine nor even the siren bothered him. The night was ordinary, too ordinary. The officer glanced far ahead. No stars, no moon, not even any clouds were visible in the sky.

“My manners? Who cares about manners?” the officer’s shouting echoed in the silent night, “You’re telling me, there is another one? I’ve had five of those this week already! Look, I NEED a life, and—”

Click.

There was…silence. His mid-sentence fury dissolved into a dazed state of stupefaction. The sound of his higher-up suddenly hanging up struck him like a hammer.

What will happen next? Is he done for? Did he fail the sole job he had, the one he always dreamed of being? He looked in the rearview mirror.

            The wallet bore an extravagant pattern, and its leather was shining bright. Inside, he knew, was embroidered the message: “No matter where you go, honey,”

            “I’ll be here, right where I am.”

…

            “It’s just another abominable criminal…” His quiet sneer changed to a bitter sigh, “I’m sorry, dear…Just one last time…and I’ll come back for you.”

***

Panting, a man came upon his household, or rather, his sanctuary. His giant hands cradled a tiny wallet with extreme care, as if it was his treasure, his prized possession.

Knocking on the delicate door, he scrambled out a single, rusty key, although he probably didn’t need it anyway; without even the need to spin the key, the door slid open on its own.

The first feature of the residence that anyone would notice, would be the man’s collection of stolen items: half a dozen wallets, a lightweight gold necklace and a busted phone were just the surface…surely, it was sickening.

But he stepped and looked forward, and there, was the sorry sight that would be to any other observer:

His sick brother lay in the creaking bed, groaning restlessly. The carpet he stepped on was broken in scrambled pieces of faded text, the door he entered was simply busted, notwithstanding the leaking roof, the overgrown kitchen…

But, when he saw him, all his suffering seemed to cease. The starlight and moonlight shined upon them both. They wept and wept, in joy.

For what the man held, was the last piece of the puzzle that long plagued them.

***

Unbeknownst to them, a dreaded omen of sirens and an unfortunate fate would ensue after their meeting.

But what is unbeknownst to all? Every individual, from their own perspectives, has their own reasons to make their decisions, so what is to be made of the expressions “good people” and “bad decisions”? By putting oneself in another’s shoes, one will better understand and sympathize with the motives and decisions of others to better assist them in accordance.