[ TT ] You have a gift for talking to inanimate objects . Alongside many perks , it makes you an excellent thief ... but you only steal things that want to be stolen .

I'm not a thief, per se. Yes, I have stolen. I have also ran before, but that does n't make me a track runner. Every day I pedal to work and begin my daily deliveries. 
 
 *Pad See Ewe to 9th and 41st. * 
 
 My bicycle awaits me at the back door. *Charles* it likes to be called. 
 
 `` A guy walked by and was eyeing my new tires! You better keep a closer watch on me!'' 
 
 I did n't acknowledge *Charles*. It was a voice only I could hear. Everyone would be able to hear me, though. Anyone within earshot would look to see that there he was again, talking to the bike, or soothing the delivery bag that he would see his other bag friends again, or laughing at a joke the chair at table 5 is telling. That chair loves a good joke. 
 
 The chairs like to tell me about their days, as I'm the only other one that will listen, and the tables are n't interested. They'll let me know when somebody accidentally leaves something behind. A very grateful purse thanked me yesterday for returning me to it's owner. `` Her feminine products are in here, she really needs me today,'' the black tote told me as I rushed outside to catch the departing lady. 
 
 I pedal away. The usual song of the city is different to me. The trash cans sing and the street lights chatter, the horns honk and the cars shout. I approach the building the food is destined for and lock up my bike. `` I'll be back Chuck.'' 
 
 A ring on the buzzer. No answer. As I'm about to ring again the door swings itself open and tells me to go inside. `` She's in 303.'' 
 
 I look at my ticket, it says 305. I say nothing to the door and I make my up the stairs. The handrails murmur. `` He's here to save her.'' `` At last he has come.'' The doctors tell me the voices are n't real. I tell myself the same thing, and continue to the room. On the third floor I make my way down the hall. I pass 301, and then comes 303. I stop and I stare at the door for a moment. 
 
 `` He's not home,'' say's the second **3** on the door. 
 
 `` She's in the closet,'' says the doorknob as it twists itself to give me access to the residence. 
 
 In the background is a faint crying. Not the sound of a crying bed, I know that sound. Not a human cry, either. But it's close. I set down the bag of food on the counter and make my way into the bedroom closet. 
 
 `` Somebody get me out of here,'' whimpers come from inside the closet. 
 
 I open the closet and inside I find a doll, motionlessly sobbing on the floor. No other sign of a child in the house could be found. It appeared as if a man lived here alone, judging by the raised and unclean toilet seat. 
 
 `` Oh where do you belong sweetheart? I'll get you outta here.'' 
 
 
 
 ***To Be Continued..... maybe***
