I am not a criminal. Do not look at me as though I were one. This was many years ago. Longer than I can remember. I wanted jewelry, clothes, shiny things, pretty things, things I could send back home to my mother and my sweetheart, yes. We all wanted those things. I was no different. You are no different. You too would pull on the coat of a wealthy man and pose in his bedroom and take a picture as I did. The bed was soft and I smiled. What use are those things to the man who no longer lives in his own home? He had gone to some other place, never to return. So who owns it then? I stole nothing because it belonged to no one. Walk in that house. It is not a home. Is it haunted by he who left? No, even his ghost was driven out. I felt nothing. Not satisfaction. Not resentment. Not anything. I was like a dog who eats or humps. Not for taste or enjoyment. Just to do as what nature asks, without intent.
Circumstances Would Dictate