7pm. East Harlem. Pick-Pocketing.
Me carrying: dry cleaning, clean laundry, day bag
Approach take-out place
What was that rustling?
Boy runs off
That boy stole my knitting!
I run, carrying said objects in flip-flops, up 2nd avenue around the corner.
Should I drop my stuff? No.
"Stop him!" "Help!" "Please"
I stop. I won't catch him.
"Is everything okay?" a nice bystander carrying heavy furniture says.
"He'll drop the knitting once he realizes it's not your wallet."
And there is my knitting bag, in the middle of street thrown away like trash.
I rescue it.
This punk violated me and my knitting.