Startled,
Then annoyed.
Following closely on the heels of annoyed is a wave of shame, of guilt, of self-kicking for not doing something different.
Now, it's completely out of your control. Nothing you can do. Nothing except pull your trousers up and move on. It's life, it's what happens.
And yet, you find it difficult to shake the persistent gnawing - that vulnerability that is attached to being robbed - is nothing safe? I need to move. What else of value do I have? Where can I store it safely? Is there nowhere secure?
That feeling drives you to double-check the doors and windows - securing everything that is ajar. Looking for "ins," calculating how simple it would be to break in, steal, and leave, all under a cloak of secrecy. It drives you to protect what you do have, to value it all the more, and take nothing for granted.
In the wake of such emotional trauma, you search the net to replace what was taken. You find it odd how quickly one forms an emotional attachment to an inanimate object. Why do we long for that which cannot long for us.
A bicycle is nothing more than a well-organized mass of steel, aluminum, and rubber, but you still miss it. Why?
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