I watched a guy lift a pack of cigarettes today. Five bucks a pack, I guess it's not surprising. I'm glad I quit when smokes were $2.50.

At the Wawa on 11th Street I had just paid for a paper. I looked over, watched this guy reach up into the overhead rack and pull out a pack of Marlboro Reds. He dropped them in his pocket. He walked around next to me, picked up a pack of gum and put it on the counter to pay for it.

I looked at him. I could still see the top of the pack sticking out of his pocket. He didn't look at me, just started talking with the cashier. "The problem with people is they don't mind their own business. You know about the Indians..."

Back on the other side of the store an older man was looking at the thief. He looked at me and shook his head, just a bit. I looked back at the shoplifter again, picked up my bag and walked out.

Now I'm imagining all kinds of things I could have done. Stood outside to wait for him. Started talking with him. There's a slight sense that I failed, that evil (of the smallest and least important sort) won this round. Another part of me wants to say that it doesn't matter, that the person who came out worst from the whole transaction was the thief himself.

I don't have a resolution.