Why have I let my Lilly’s Kindle be stolen?

It started in the shop where my kindle (and my wallet) vanished into thin air. I cried like a baby: over the phone to my boyfriend; on the way home to myself, at the doorstep to my parents. Upset. Gutted. Disappointed. My heart sores because the Lilly’s Kindle is a precious birthday gift from my boyfriend. My head aches because of the many unanswered questions. Who stole my Kindle: the elderly shop owner, the chatty woman who told me about her child, the friendly one who complimented on my trousers, or all of them? Who should I trust or distrust? More importantly why have I let my Kindle be stolen? Stupid. Naive. Careless. Mum said I look like I am not from here. That is why they bullied me. City dwellers tend to bully outsiders because the latter don’t know the so-called rules. She didn’t mean that I am more ugly or more pretty, paler or darker. She just meant that I don’t fit in (any more). In my hometown! Is she right?

So I let my Lilly’s Kindle be stolen. Soon enough I can have it replaced I am sure. But how soon will it take for me to trust again? Or learn to distrust. More importantly how soon will it take for me to pave my way back in? Eventually!