It was a matter of couples of seconds. Indeed, within such a short time, not
even enough for the minute hand to run a circle, a shameless theif had
performed his prefession amazing well.
In the very beginning, I was taken aback to find my striped, folding
umbrella was gone! Soon, my surprise turned into a series of mental curses,
clenching fists, wrath-shooting eyes, and searching steps around.
However, the darn son of a gun (already an euphemism) was nowhere to be
found. Only the forlorn hope that he must have been run over somewhere else
to the hell could comfort my anger a bit; even so, that was merely a
slap-on-the-wrist punishment. What I desired fiercely in my mind was my itchy
fists peppering on his (not possibly "her"?!) brazen face, as well as the
dismembering of his sinful hands.
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