Mike watched the heavy rain from the relative comfort of the old bus shelter bench. As he pulled himself back up the slanted bench, he watching the entrance of the old hotel on the other side of the road, then he felt now was the time to move. After looking up and down the road, he dashed through the rain to the front door and jumped inside the lobby, where he shook off most of the rain.

“Hi,” greeted a dark-haired woman, in her early thirties.

“Hi,” Mike responded, smiling. “Just looking for a bit to eat, if you’re serving food?”

“Oh, yes, of course, menus are on the tables, go through to your left,” she said, pointing the way.

Viewing the empty tables at the door, Mike joked, “Anywhere will do.”

“Yeah,” the woman smiled, pulling her hair to the side, “You’re early and it’s raining so heavy out there.”

“Lucky me. I think I’ll have an orange juice while I look at the menu, if that’s ok?”

“Sure,” the woman agreed, walking off, as she manoeuvred her hair from her face.

As soon as she was gone, Mike, quietly crossed the room, stopped at the door and studied the adjoining doors on the other side of the lobby. He pondered, then heard the woman coming back from the kitchen, so returned to his seat.

“What’s your name then?” Mike asked awkwardly, rubbing his hands.

“Jessica,” replied the woman, placing down the drink. “Are you ready to …?”

“…Yes, I think I’ll have the…” Mike stuttered, observing the menu for the first real time, “…Yes, I’ll have the soup of the day.”

“Just that? No bread?”

“And some crusty bread, please,” added Mike with an appeasing Mike.

“That’s fine, be with you soon,” assured Jessica, putting down her order pad, with no need to use it.

As soon as Jessica was gone, Mike crept out in to the lobby, and this time went straight to one of the two adjoining doors, listened briefly, then quietly opened the door. He looked in, around, smiled to himself, having seen what he wanted, then left, stealthily returning to his seat.

While he waited for Jessica to return, he counted the seconds on his watch, aware he had more time then he thought. Then Jessica returned with the soup, expertly placing it down with the bread.

“There you go, sir.” She declared, looking around the room briefly.

“Looks great,” agreed Mike, smelling it.

Jessica then took out a card machine, which surprised Mike, “You want me to pay now?”

“I was…” Jessica nervously started, “…I was going to say, we have a problem with payment and need to take now, as the line is temperamental, for the machine…”

“… oh, no problem, concluded Mike, “I can pay you cash right now.”

“Now?” hesitated Jessica, with a smile of appeasement.

Even though he felt a little put out, Mike paid with cash and Jessica left, somewhat relieved, smiling gratefully, “Thank you, sir, please do enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you, Jessica,” smiled Mike, feeling a little awkward, as he began to wonder why.  

The demand for pay up front was odd, but as soon as Jessica was gone, Mike gulped down some of the soup and crammed some bread in his mouth as he quickly crept through the lobby to the room again.

There in all its antique beauty, was the 17^th century time piece, waiting for the hands of a discerning thief. Mike quietly closed the door, observing the rest of the room with a quick glance, and finding a sack for the purpose, he walked back over to the time piece, “I’ve waited a while for you,” he declared as he wiped off the cobwebs and rubbed the face clear. Aware of how little time he had, Mike placed it in the sack and quietly left.

But standing outside, was Jessica, accompanied by the chef and a tall man, Mike knew well. Mike froze, but decided to speak first, “So, just getting something I left, that’s all…”

“No!” demanded the tall man, blocking his path, with the aid of the others.

“Look…Gary, I’ll put it back,” defended Mike to the imposing angry tall figure.

“Yes, you will,” Gary demanded with the nodding approval of the others.

Mike turned back in to the room and was followed closely by all three, where he awkwardly put the time piece back, making sure his sweaty fingers did not drop it.

“Listen, guys, I am so sorry about the…” stared Mike in his verbal defence.

“…Save it!” interrupted Gary, “I’ve heard too many excuses from you!”

“I think you better leave, mate,” added the short, old, but angry looking chef.

All three watched as Mike walked past them with his head bowed in shame, then they closely followed Mike and his every move as he walked to the door. Gary overtook Mike to open the front door, then stepped aside and looked at Mike with some pity.

“I just want to say…”

“… Don’t bother interrupted the chef.

“That’s why we sacked you Mike,” offered Gary in a sombre tone.

When Mike shuffled past Gary, he mumbled, “Sorry Gary, really I am.”

“You’ll probably try it again, Mike, you need help mate,” offered Gary sympathetically.

Mike stood still, moving round to Gary, “I’ll be seeing you, around, I suppose.”

“Bugger off! You’re a thief mate! We don’t want to see you...”

“… OK,” interrupted Gary, then shook his head in pity, “Just Go, Mike.”

Mike put his head down and bore the brunt of the rain as he started walking away, speeding up with shame and relief the further he walked.

“Do we call the police then?” asked Jessica.

“No, there’s no need for that, he’s suffering enough,” Gary concluded, watching Mike walk faster in the rain.

“I would,” assured the chef.

All three were now watching the wet figure of Mike get smaller.

Jessica turned to Mike, “did he used to work here then?”

“Yeah, years ago, we started together,” pondered Gary, still watching Mike. “It’s a shame.”