when i was in fifth grade, i stole a kudos bar off of my friend evan's desk. it was an exercize in prepubescent flirting more than anything; i did it as slowly and deliberately as possible, since the point was for him to catch me and for some sort of flustered interaction to result. however, he never looked up, and when i found it safely in my hands, hidden below my desk, i wasn't sure what to do. the bell rang for recess and i darted out into the playground, the illicit item held tight in my hand.

peeling back the wrapper, the rich brown flesh of my stolen treasure gleamed and glistened. i broke it in half, and my accomplice, amy, and i shoved our halves frantically into our mouths and chewed as fast as we could. when we got back to class, evan was crying and the teacher made an announcement.

"someone in this room has stolen something that is not theirs. this will not be tolerated."

the light of blame never swung around to me; i was a "good girl" and so patently trustworthy that no one thought even to ask me if i'd seen anything happen.

unfortunately, i was wracked by guilt. i lay awake nights, a cold heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and eventually i broke down crying to my parents. they were very good about not laughing at me.

i had to confess to evan, and buy him a whole box of kudos out of my allowance money. he looked at me funny, but accepted both my tearful apology and my box of chocolate-covered granola bars.

right now, i feel that exact same heavy sorrow in my gut, but i have no reason to, and no idea why.