I robbed her this morning. I stole her pristine smile with a cleverly contrived French. I shamelessly pulled her towards me, and in a solemn moment, eased it out of her. She knew not my motive. She could not have known unless she provoked my self-centered, envious thoughts. However, looking at her while she walked to her car, suspicions engulfed me. She became a fountain with more immaculate smiles streaming out in all directions. To my surprise, she even complimented me on my stolen identity; “wow, Goof,” she uttered, “You wear your smile like Romeo today.” Her compliment puzzled me, but I waved my smile even higher in approval. Now I’m Romeo, her “Goofball.” She evidently found my new smile attractive, but did she know that she was only looking at a mirror reflection? Sitting at my desk, my coworkers are convinced that something is wrong. They dispute the foreign element on my face, and genuinely distrust its radiance. However, my mind wonders in bewilderment. I stole her smile; I know I did. She bore witness to it and my workplace is disbelieving. But she had more smiles then I could ever account for. Maybe I will steal her grace tomorrow. Perhaps I will have to steal her patience next week hoping that her goodness keeps overflowing.