The Snatch

I peeked around the corner casually while Louis sussed out the mark. Oblivious, he sat gazing into space at the park perimeter, his pricey leather laptop bag strap looped loosely over the bench back. Next to him, a tuna sandwich lay partially unwrapped, and next to the sandwich, a banana. I wrinkled my nose. I hate bananas.

A gold ring flashed on the guy’s finger as he raised his hand to brush the hair out of his eyes. He sighed, distracted. Perfect.

Louis strolled by, pretending to look for someone he knew. He kept going for about ten paces, then carefully doubled back behind. He looked at me. I nodded; the guy hadn’t noticed him at all.

I left my hiding place and walked towards the bench, needing to get close enough to get the mark’s attention so Louis could make the snatch. I’d pretend to chase him. Louis could easily outrun anyone, and I’m not a snail. The guy saw me and leaned forward.

He got it! We ran, muscles straining with the effort. The surprised guy jumped up, not knowing what had hit him.

After about a quarter of a mile, we stopped. Stolen tuna tastes the best.