Disbelief at first. Then anger, outrage. How could somebody do this? What kind of person?
Then fear. What if I’d been home? What if they come back?
A sense of violation. I didn’t know this person. They left traces, like an opened can of Coke that I didn’t know I had. Maybe it was from Thanksgiving, or maybe it wasn’t even mine. They smoked a cigarette in my living room.
Now a sense of sudden panic and regret whenever I can’t find something. Maybe they took it like they took the TV and my father’s gold watch.
It’s been a year.