I’m cleaning the home of the Doyles. Mr. Doyle has been extremely generous and granted more days of work for me. The Mrs. doesn’t approve, she’s never tipped me, and many other instances lead me to believe that she dislikes me overall. She sneers at me as she leaves the home. The kind Mr. Doyle comes in the room and I jump at the opportunity to profusely thank him for the opportunity to work extra hours. I need it, not to delve too personal, I briefly mention the fact that I run my home on my own now. Mr. Doyle smiles warmly at me, and tells me that the bedroom is not to be cleaned today. “Yes, sir.” He leaves and I continue to clean. The bedroom is not to be cleaned? Why am I not allowed to enter the bedroom? I “always” clean the bedroom. When I am certain he is not in the home, I enter the bedroom and see a heart shaped box on the bed. It must be his wife’s, she has a habit of buying expensive things and laying them around in the home as if they are disposable. I open the lid to see the most exquisite necklace, bracelet, and earrings set. I’ve seen this featured in Haute Couture Magazine, and I know the price tag. I also know that the lady of the house is an absent minded woman, she would never know if I took it. I have never stolen before but just this once shouldn’t hurt? I justify the theft by reminding myself of my great misfortunes in life, and the lady’s rudeness to me. She orders me around without even looking me in the eye, as if my poorness is contagious.
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