"Why tell me?" he asked.
He saw the oldest trick in the city's book: when people carried histories inside objects, the histories were weighed and tempting. The thieves stooped to pick the cassette up. Their hands brushed the ribbon, and for a moment the alley folded into another light: a skate ramp, a boy with a chipped tooth, sun on concrete. The angel leaned forward; its small wings bent like shadows toward the thieves as if to whisper a secret no ear could translate. 100 Angels By Ryu Kurokage.19