Dear Store Clerk, I wasn't stealing...

Dear Tattooed Store Clerk,

I was not stealing from your store. Here's what happened:

I was returning home after a lovely weekend visit with a friend and had only a short time between trains. Since I had been coughing up a storm and had finished my tea on the first train, I decided that purchasing a beverage to get me through the last leg of the trip might be a wise and considerate for everyone involved. I meandered into your store in the train station and walked up and down the aisles with my duffel bag and large purse. In Russia they would have had lockers for me to put these in to avoid suspicion (although I don't think it would have fit, but oh well, it's a train station... people have bags...) I kept running into you as you were stocking in different aisles. I avoided you for one reason and one reason only: I was afraid you might ask if I needed help and I don't like talking to strangers. I deliberated over juices, cough drops and whatnot and then realized that I had totally spaced out and had a train to catch. I hastened to the check out and realized that the lines were a mile long (rounding to the next mile, of course) and judging by the clock which I could see in the station through the doorway, my train was leaving in one minute. I ran frantically back to the aisles to try to return the things when I encountered you once again and you told me that this bigger bottle of juice was exactly the same but a better deal. I really meant it when I said I didn't have any time and had to catch my train (actually I forgot the word for catch so my sentence just kind of faded off after "train"... but you got the point). It was very nice of you to open a new line for me in spite of everyone who probably hated me since they had been waiting for who knows how long. I paid, threw my things into my aforementioned very large purse and ran to my platform, which was, luckily, right by the store. THE TRAIN WAS STILL THERE and the doors were still open. I bounded up the stairs and watched the doors close before my eyes. I pushed the button. Nothing. The train sat there and the people inside did too. I frantically pushed the button a couple more times and hit the door for good measure (with open hand). Then the step pulled up, and I was left standing there next to the empty tracks. As I walked away defeated a nice lady sympathized with me (somehow this exchange with a stranger wasn't so intimidating). I found the next train to my destination and contemplated as I waited. What are the chances that the one I wanted was bound by punctuality and yet this one left 15 minutes late? Karma. Maybe I shouldn't have hit the first one. But in my contemplation time, and between games of "dots" on my phone, I realized that you were not only stocking the aisles, but probably also stalking the aisles, waiting for suspicious people with big bags who don't like human contact. If I had returned the things and tried to just leave you probably would have stopped me and checked my bags anyway. I still would have missed my train. But you wouldn't have found anything because I am not a thief. On the bright side, I had my juice and cough drops on the train and didn't even have to wait in line.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.