I.

The first time I tried to steal food from my roommates was terrifying. I walked into my apartment after a long day of classes and dropped my coat and backpack on the floor with a defeated thump. I was prepared to trod sadly into my bedroom and land face-down on my bed for the rest of the night, but I stopped dead in my tracks. It was as if a beam of majestic light descended from heaven, illuminating the open box of Samoa cookies sitting unattended on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

I could hear voices in my roommate’s bedroom, so I knew I wasn’t alone. If I was going to do this job, I had to do it quick. With my eyes on her door, I thrust my hand deep into the box, hoping to grab one cookie and retreat into my bedroom before anyone could see me. My soul was crushed when my fingertips touched the bottom of the box without finding a single crumb. I had very little time to mourn my loss, however, as I heard my roommate turn her doorknob.

Panicking, not wanting her to know I intended to steal her nonexistent cookies, I yanked my hand out of the box. Unfortunately, the plastic bag inside the box clung to my wrist, and there I stood, my hand stuck in the cookie box as my roommate opened her door. I shook the box off of my hand, cursing under my breath, and scampered past her into my bedroom without looking her in the eye.

II.

The second time I tried to steal food from my roommates was perhaps even more psychologically scarring. I was on my way out the door and intended to grab a snack on the way. It had been a while since I’d bought groceries, and, tragically, none of the food left on the pantry shelf belonged to me. What I did spot was a half-eaten bag of tortilla chips perched on the edge of the shelf. Again, I was alone in the kitchen, and I saw no harm in taking a few of my roommate’s chips for the road.

I picked up the bag. This was where things went wrong. The bag was topped with a chip clip, and when I squeezed the clip, the plastic crunched in my hand. I destroyed the chip clip that was holding the bag shut. Gripped with fear, I stuffed a handful of tortilla chips in my mouth and tucked the broken clip as deep into the trash can as I could. All the other clips were already being used, but I couldn’t leave the bag unrolled. If my roommate was going to find out I stole some of her chips, I would at least make sure she couldn’t blame me for the rest of the chips going stale. I double clipped the tortilla chips with a bag of Chex Mix and ran out the door.

III.

I can no longer steal food in peace. I haunt my kitchen in a state of paranoia that someone in my house is keeping tabs on everything I eat. Since the time I found a package of Oreos with the edge of the plastic top flap taped down, like the cruel middle school field trip hotel door sealing procedure, I’ve been walking around with a target on my back. I replace the package of everything I eat exactly the way I found it. I make sure the label on the package is facing the same way it was when I picked it up to pilfer a bite or two. I alternate between two different gallons of milk so it will take longer for anyone to notice I’m drinking theirs. I continue to steal snacks, but at what price?

-Ivy Decker, Senior Staff Member