The neon green wallet called to me.
Not only was it a great color, but it was also held together by Velcro, had pockets for change, and had space for business cards for when I grow up and have a job.
In my pocket I had a 20-Riyal note. On the wallet hung a price tag. It said SR 50. The small amount of SR30 stood between me and the daydream of owning my first ever wallet.
Not only would I not be able to afford it, but even if I had the SR50, “why would someone buy a wallet if they won’t have anything left to put inside it?” I thought to myself.
I won’t deny it, I considered putting that wallet into my pocket and walking out, but that wouldn’t be right.
As I stood there with the neon green wallet in my hand, I remembered what my religion teacher told me about stealing. I remembered what my parents told me about stealing. I listened to my own inner moral guide, aged nine but still wiser than his years.
A few minutes later I was done deliberating and weighing the pros and cons of the situation, particularly with respect to my chances of going to heaven.
I walked out of the store and back to my mom.
Under my shirt was my first ever wallet, which cost me zero.