Everybody hates a kleptomaniac until they befriend one. Just like any person addicted to petty crime, Marcelle was a little off. I mean, not all the time. He had moments of clarity where he offered up some of the best advice I’d ever received, but then he’d spot something he lacked and he’d get that distant look in his eyes again.
I could feel it coming to a halt. Sitting around the table, I looked on at my friends, all laughing and joking around, seemingly unaware that this was the end of an era. We’d never be this young and old again. And although I was aware that that was a concept everyone is forced to face, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the best it got. What happens when there’s nothing left to explore – no newness left to overturn? We would soon find out.