Godiva Chocolate

While waiting on line at Starbucks for my chai latte, I witnessed a man, but a mere boy, of perhaps 80 or so, walk up to the counter and steal a chocolate bar. He was bold, assertive, but not conniving. He was fearless but not naive. He simply knew. And he took, quickly, while no one was there. And then he was gone. Turned out not far, just on the other side of the wall, sitting, alone, eating his prize with a certain sense of entitlement and ease. The veracity of a toddler hung on his face. He had no guilt. Pride almost. This was certainly not his first crime. Caught before, several times I'm sure. But he'd honed his craft, and no longer did he even need to feign confusion and play the part of the disoriented invalid. He was 8 years old again emboldened by immunity garnered from the shabby chic flannel of the kindly grandpa.