On shoplifting

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.

Photo by Vitaly Vlasov from Pexels

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.

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