[ WP ] You are a professional pickpocket . You 've just picked someones pocket only to discover that the thing you have stolen is truly horrifying .

Never again would I make such a mistake. The cold hard metal was gentile to the touch, it's the only solace I can remember. How could I have been so stupid? 
 
 I thought it should have been close, I had been waiting for several weeks, my only thought was one of freedom, I had no self-pity. I had been staring a the same crack on the wall outside of my bunk for a good twenty minutes, lost looking into my own mind, my thoughts were running rampant with vengeance in the driver's seat. 
 
 Finally, a well kept uniformed women walked up to my cell, she looked at me `` Your sentence is up, arms to your side until you reach the desk in C hall.'' 
 
 Had it been 60 days? No matter, I was once again a free man. I walked with my arms to my side as I was instructed, I had only one thing on my mind; to get back to business. 
 
 The officer walked me up to the desk, I waited until she walked behind the fiberglass window. One cell phone, one bracelet inscribed *conceive infinity*, I had gotten it at the local corner market on 3rd and Wesston Ave, it had to have been the thing I had actually purchased in some time. Why pay for something you can have for free? I had gotten distracted, I was handed a fedora styled hat. This was n't mine, was it? `` Ma'am, this is n't mine'', she looked at it and chuckled `` well, we do n't know who you stole it from so keep it.'' 
 
 I brushed the remark off, this woman had to have been in her early 40's, frizzy blonde hair, but not too frizzy, she smelt like jail: cold and wet. 
 
 I walked out a free man, and immediately I saw it, an older gentleman probably in his late 80's. He had white thinned out hair on either side of his aging cranium but none center. He walked with a hunch and a cane. Where was he going? I thought, never mind, it's of no importance. I was amazed, such a vulnerable target right for the taking, like a ripe blackberry in the park. 
 
 I had started to run and I tripped his cane, he fell to the ground. All I could think was how lucky I was, and all I said were my apologies. I picked him up and brushed him off, grabbing his black leather wallet in the process. I asked him if he was okay but I could n't care less, he smiled and assured me that mistakes happen. I tipped my newly acquired hat and we parted ways. 
 
 I was full of excitement, everything had happened so perfectly, I walk two city blocks before pulling the wallet out of my back left pocket, I opened it and... nothing. Where's the money? Just some insurance cards and what's this? It was a folded piece of paper in one of the pockets, wait, it was several. I hastily open the first paper, it was a black and white photo, it had a very handsomely groomed man with light hair, he looked like a soldier from a long time ago, he was smiling while leaning on a broken fence. Was this the old man? Where is he from? I open the second paper, it was the soldier again, but he was holding a pistol to another man in striped fatigues, what's that on his arm? It's kind of blurry, I thought, it was the Star of David? I gasped, this could n't surely have been the nice man I had just seen. 
 
 There was a third picture with the same soldier, he looked happier than he did, it was n't that typical smile you design for photographs, it was a sadistic smile its very nature, the corners of his mouth were close to his ears, his eyes squinting even further. But wait, where was the striped man? 
 
 I looked at the soldier's uniform, it had dark spots on it now, his gun had a slight shadow at the end. Did he have acne? Not in the other photo's, I noticed his right leg slightly bent, I looked towards his feet. And there I saw it, the striped man, lying on the ground with a dark hole to the right of his nose, lying in a dark puddle of liquid presumably from his own body. The soldier's leg had been bent by placing his boot on the head of the striped man. 
 
 Horrified, I checked the wallet for more contents... there was one more item of interest, a folded up cloth, it was black and white with little specks of red, it was crusty and it smelled a bit nostalgic, sort of like the couple of pairs of unfortunate socks during my run at puberty. Wait a minute, is it covered in semen? I immediately let go of it. It falls to the ground with the other side up, 2989. 
 
 2989, it was inscribed on the back, why did this number seem familiar? I thought for a moment before I pulled out the photo again. I focused on the striped man, there were letters on his chest, no wait, they were numbers... 2989. 
 

