When I was 17 my uncle gave me a job at his sporting goods store. I stole a jacket that I couldn't afford by bundling it into a long sleeve shirt that I had worn that morning. On the way out of the store, he stopped me and asked me what I had. I told him it was just my shirt.
15 years later I still think about it every damned day and wish that I could take it back. I have never confessed and it has made me hate myself. I am certain that he knew that day I was stealing and let me do it
anonymousHome February 13, 2008 at 12:00 am
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