Epiphanies always came to her at the most inconvenient of times—always two steps behind. And it was only<em>now</em>, as she stood there in the street, clutching the stash of papers to her chest and shivering with cold (and perhaps fright), that she realized how stupid she’d been. Stealing some papers, however important, was not going to change anything, particularly not in this age of Xerox and internet backup files.<br/><br/>Worse, she was chilled to the bone, having dressed impulsively and inappropriately, wearing nothing on top of her thin shirt. She needed to get home, and wallow in a hot bath and hatred and self-pity and thank the gods that she hadn’t been caught on such a fool errand.<br/><br/>Earlier she’d walked—no, stalked—to the museum, red hot with righteous anger, not noticing the considerable distance. Now she tried to fight the temptation to simply take a taxi. Taxis were luxuries she could not afford, ranking way up there with functioning heaters and fresh fruit.<br/><br/>But when the cabbie approached her first and said, "Do you need a ride miss?" she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Of course she needed a ride.<br/><br/>It was like Satan with the voice of an angel—welcome words, but her finances for this month would be fucked twice over if she blew €10 on a mere taxi. So she said, her regret palpable, “No, thank you! I’m just… I was just about to walk home, thank you.” But she made no movement, and instead, just stared at taxi and the driver, wondering what would happen if she simply decided to get on, and then run off without paying.<br/>