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

EDIT: first time posing here, critique is welcome. 
 
 Her. 
 
 She ’ ll be next. 
 
 She was my usual unsuspecting target, her center of attention being directed at the various shiny and expensive items behind the nearest shop window, not paying attention to anything save the jewelry in front of her. The people around her couldn ’ t be more distant; all that mattered was Morten ’ s Jewelry Store. Even her own daughter was busy entertaining herself with small, colorful blocks as she sat in her stroller, obviously used to waiting for long periods of time for her mother. 
 
 She ’ ll be perfect. 
 
 Anyone willing to spend ten minutes peering into a single shop at various assortments of diamonds and jade while their own child sat patiently beside would be the prime target. Very little distraction would be needed, if any. She had a large purse, easy to reach into unnoticed. Treasures awaited inside remaining, begging to be taken. It was only 9 in the morning, but I could tell today would be a fulfilling day. I sat watching, waiting, all the while devising my course of action. 
 It ’ ll be too easy. 
 
 So unsuspecting 
 
 I strolled leisurely over to her, stopping only a few feet away from my next target. She was in her late thirties, perhaps early forties with brown hair curled tightly as it cascaded down just past her shoulders. Her attire would suggest that she worked an office job, a white unblemished suit coat paired with a form fitting pencil skirt. Wealthy without a doubt, a stupendous way to start the day. I inched closer to her, pretending to be interested in a large ruby bracelet. 
 
 Now was my time to shine. 
 
 “ My wife would absolutely love that, ” I said hoping to pique her interest. “ Oh yes, ” she said, as if coming out of a daze, “ and so nicely priced. ” It wasn ’ t. “ I bought her a dress the same color, they would go together well, I think, ” I said with a bit more enthusiasm than I had ever expected to put into a conversation about dresses. Trying to change the conversation quickly I turned around to look at the child playing in the stroller. “ Oh, she ’ s a pretty one isn ’ t she? ” Her attention shifted slowly from a bright diamond necklace to the little girl in the stroller. “ Oh yes, ” she said bending over to pinch the infant ’ s cheeks. As she slowly descended towards the face of her child, I did it. Quickly and quietly I reached my hand deep into the folds of her gargantuan purse. My hand seized a rectangle of leather, a wallet. As she straightened back up, my hand returned from the void that was this woman ’ s purse and slipped the spoils into the right pocket of my pants. 
 
 Too simple. 
 
 Not wanting to stay longer than needed in the presence of this woman, I rocked on my feet a while longer, commented again on the appearance of the youngster, muttered a quick, “ Have a nice day, ” and walked casually down the street. As to not cause suspicion, I continued down the street looking for the right place to review on my success. There was a café about two blocks down that would do perfectly. As I neared the establishment I felt the adrenaline start to dwindle inside of me. 
 
 So smooth. 
 
 I entered, as I had done several times, ordered a coffee and sat down near a window awaiting my drink to be complete. The food here wasn ’ t fast, but it was good. I picked up a newspaper that was sitting on the table, and began to read, halfheartedly. As inconspicuously as I could I pulled my treasure out from my pocket as I turned a page. I set the wallet down onto the cool, marbled surface of the tabletop. I peered at it awhile, pondering how long it would take the woman to realize what had happened. I unlatched the buckle that held the leather together, taking in the smooth feeling. As the full size of the leather was unfolded I examined the upper opening of the holder. Hundreds of dollars stared back at me. Green, crisp faces telling me just how good today ’ s haul would be. 
 
 She was perfect. 
 
 I stood, and pocketed the cash. I strolled over to the trash bin in the corner of the café, preparing to throw away the now-useless scraps of leather when something caught my eye. A piece of paper stuck out from the side compartment of the wallet. I pulled it out as I let the hopeless wallet slip from my fingers into the bin. I unfolded the paper slowly, breathing in the aroma of my nearly finished coffee. As the fully extended paper filled my view, I gasped. On the paper there were pictures of five little girls, all-smiling, staring at the holder of the paper. This is not what caused me to gasp. There was a red x through every girl ’ s face, along with some times and places as well as the word DECEASED scrawled next to them in red ink. All pictures except for one bore this sad tale of mortality. The girl at the top of the page was a young blonde girl, about two years old, with bright blue eyes, the same girl who had been with the woman. As the cashier called out my name, my heart fell and then flew. Next to the little girl ’ s picture were the words 
 
 MONDAY, JULY 14, 2014, 9:15 AM, MORTEN ’ S JEWELRY STORE 

