To the boy who stole for me at six,

Mum didn’t let me keep that statue you stole from your parents to give to me. I tried to explain to her that it didn’t matter. We were getting married, what’s yours was mine and all that. She made me give it back to you. You broke my heart when you gave it to the teacher instead.

I was thinking about you recently. How even at six I deserved only the best. Someone who was willing to risk the punishment and would do the dumb thing for me anyway. Perhaps, not someone so willing to hand their affections onto someone new so quickly though…

Sorry I don’t remember your name.