She stole a few checks out of my check book and wrote herself a few drafts for cash. A couple hundred bucks. She was some stoner girl who crashed on the couch of this house where I lived for a while - some scholarship drama student who had dropped out. I didn't figure it out until my check for rent bounced. She had moved on by then. I heard that she got locked up in the psych ward after she went berserk and cut off all of her hair and tried to kill herself, a 'cry for help' type of attempt, I heard.

I left it alone.

Whatever. I guess it would have been pretty fucked up to wait for the girl to get discharged from the nut ward, and then have the cops come sprawl her across the hood of the squad car in the looney bin parking lot, and cuff her and stuff her, and cart her ass straight to jail before she's even finished her first cigarette in months. You know.

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