I am sitting in an empty meeting room waiting for everyone to come late. There is a nice looking pencil on the table. The rubber looks unused. I am tempted to take the pencil, but I know my life may be changed forever if I do. I learnt that from TV. I grab the pencil and put it in my shirt pocket. I make my choice. I feel regret mixed with excitement. It feels good. I am sure no one would miss it and I doubt I would ever be a suspect. I am too good looking. It’s comforting to know the police have stopped searching for anything. They mainly run errands. I still need to have an alibi because I realize stealing isn’t only the act, it’s a process that never ends. I must have eternal vigilance. I will claim I took the pencil because I thought it was mine since, like the Nissan Almera, they all look alike. People are starting to come in the room and I am suddenly self-conscious. I think they are all staring at my pocket and my new pencil. I start to behave stranger than a work of fiction. I take the pencil and start to draw on my notepad instead of making vital notes. I draw a stick-figure policeman and a working police car. People are starting to make fun of my drawing. I am hoping they would understand my hidden message and my cry for affordable therapy. Some claim the working police car only exists in the fantasy world. They miss the point. I am starting to cold sweat like Crazy and I can’t think of anything but lead. I don’t like this misery and I want my less guilty life back. A voice in my head says I think too much and that’s why I suffer. The same voice says there is only one way to have a guilt free life and fans in whose eyes I can do no wrong. I decide to become a politician.