The doctor tried to tell me I have kleptomania. That’s bullshit. I am perfectly in control of the things I steal. I mean, sure, I like to steal a lot of stuff, but it’s not like I’ll just pick up any old random piece of crap. It’s got to be right. It’s got to be the next one in the sequence.
It started when I was twelve. I found an old leather bookmark down the back of the couch. There was something about it. The shape, the smell, the feel of it. Minimal but functional.
Now I have 207. Reckon I can break 300 before the year’s out.