[ WP ] A person finds out they can steal the knowledge of others through contact . Soon it becomes an obsession .

Food courts are ideal. Food courts and parks. Really, any crowded spot will do, so long as I can walk around without bumping into anyone. You have to be careful with this sort of thing. Touching the wrong kind of person, the cubicle worker at the peak of their miserable subway commute, for instance, can ruin your day. That kind of everyday depression, even glimpsed secondhand, is poison. That's why I like food courts; you get to pick your targets. 
 
 I've crafted my disguise as best I can: the passively indecisive face, the slow amble from counter to counter, the occasional pauses to read a menu. All the while I am catching glimpses, stolen by way of a brush against a passing stranger's arm, or an apologetic shuffle between crowded tables. My favourite game is to steal someone's train of thought. They will be chatting away with some friend or coworker about their recent holiday, say, when I will swoop in and pluck their next sentence from their mind, then watch as they struggle to remember what they were going to say. Taking names is also great fun. Nothing beats the embarrassment of someone asking, a third time, for their insulted interlocutor to repeat `` John Smith''. The dates of birthdays or anniversaries are similarly delightful, though these harder to come by, and the payoff is less immediate. 
 
 People who smile in public also have a special place in my heart, being as they are walking advertisements for whatever happy memory caused them to grin in the first place. If you've ever found yourself struggling to remember the punchline of a joke, chances are someone like me spotted your unguarded smile as you recalled the gag in public, and swiped it for their own private amusement. 
 
 In another category altogether, we find the lovers, whose giddy passion offers a high unparalleled by any other memory ( save perhaps an accidental snapshot I once stole from the early days of an addict's budding relationship with heroin ). Of these, I must be very careful. In my early days, I found the draw so strong that once, spotting a young husband in a public bathroom, I took from him every date, every kiss, every bedroom scene, and let him walk away convinced that he was single. The following days were a nightmarish struggle to separate his memories from mine. 
 
 That's the trouble with this game. I've taken so many names, now, that I've all but forgotten my own. When I spot a familiar face on the street, I can never be sure if they will know me, or the person I stole them from. When I visit my parents, they do n't know who I am ( they do n't know much of anything. The doctors claim early onset alzheimer's disease, though I know better. ) When I try to find a lover... I'd rather not think of it. Best to take what I can from someone else. They wo n't know what they're missing.
