For a second, Chauncy didn’t move. Then slowly— He reached into his pocket. And pulled them out. Two candy bars. One small snack. Crinkled from being held too tight. “I didn’t steal them.” The words came out fast. Too fast. “They were given to me—outside. I was just—” “Those are from this store.” The manager cut him off. Flat. Certain. Chauncy blinked. “No—they’re not, I mean—they are, but I didn’t take them. Someone gave them to me, I swear.”
The manager stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Do you know how that looked?” Chauncy’s chest tightened. “You drop it,” the manager continued, “then grab it like you don’t want anyone to see.” “I panicked,” Chauncy said. “I just—” “And you kept going,” the manager said. “Stuffing your pockets.” Like a verdict.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Chauncy said again. But this time it didn’t sound strong.