Karina had been passed around by her wealthy friends for months. There wasn't one incident that caused her to take off. Eventually, she just couldn't take it anymore. She spent one final night raiding jewelry boxes- this time with no fear of discovery- and snuck out the guest bedroom window. She was dressed in simple clothes that she'd purchased from the pawn shop in the city where she sold her jewelry. She'd also picked up a few choice items that were tools of her chosen trade: a set of lockpicks, a dark mask, form fitting black clothing, and some rope. She even picked out a small knife. It felt very romantic, gathering these supplies. 

She quickly learned that one did not become a "master thief" by wearing a costume. There were several hilarious misadventures as she prowled around the New York area. The upper middle class areas were best. Wealthy enough to have something worth stealing, but less likely to have dedicated security and obscenely high gates. She rented a small apartment, kept to herself, and honed her craft.

There were many misadventures, at first. Once she slipped on a fence and thought she'd gotten a fence post lodged in her leg. Couldn't sit down comfortably for days. Another time she had to take off sprinting, climb a shed, and jump into a neighbor's fish pond because she'd been surprised by a couple dogs. She wasn't ready to break into a museum or anything, but she was making a comfortable living pawning jewelry, watches, and other portable valuables. She was quiet enough that she almost never made contact with anyone. A few times she'd seen flashlights and she'd had several close calls, but she always managed to make it far enough away, despite the danger. She bounced around between different suburbs and did as much advanced scouting as she could. She was particularly fond of strolling around the neighborhood in a sundress, explaining that her parents were looking to buy a house here- gee, was it safe? Lots of people were happy to mention particularly vigilant neighbors who kept an eye on things; she made sure to steer clear of them. 

It was all going perfectly, until she fell in love.

She'd just broken into a house a few minutes before. She'd easily picked the front door open and closed it behind her. The was a master bedroom on the ground level, with a snoring man and his wife in the bed. She glided over to the dresser, pinched the jewelry box, and took any loose valuables that didn't make any noise. On her way out, she noticed another room. An office? She moved silently down the hallway, and that's when she saw it.

Her heart leaped in a way that she didn't know was possible. The long, shining barrel gleamed in the moonlight and her eyes went wide. There were other guns in the room- but that's like saying there are other stars in the sky when the sun is shining. She didn't remember walking over to it, but she had it in her hand before she was capable of conscious thought. The ivory handle seemed made for her hand. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Karina had never fired a gun before, but she knew she was looking at art, at beauty. Steadily, leaving the gun out, she opened the storage area beneath the stand it was mounted on and grabbed all the boxes of ammunition she could find. She could sort all that out later. 

Picking up the gun, she stared at it- until she noticed the first grey spots beginning to emerge in the night sky. How long had she been here, indulging in this reverie? Panicking a little, she tucked the gun in her bag and made her way out of the house. She spent the next day looking at the gun. At her gun. Emptying it, she abandoned her planned string of burglaries and spent days loading and emptying the revolver. She stole a book on guns from the library, and eventually discovered that this was an early model Colt Single Action Army. She devoured everything she could read on the subject and cleaned the gun religiously. ​It was only after a week of study that she felt confident enough to fire it for the first time. She drove deep into the woods and lined up several bottles before walking a moderate distance away. Her first shots were wildly off base, but she savored the smell of sulfur and the resounding crack heard throughout the surrounding hills. She spent many long days practicing on those hills, but she'd never been happier. 

Owning that gun help her realize just how scared she'd been since her father died. They had come for him and killed him, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do to stop it. Even when choosing to sneak into the houses of others, she was constantly afraid. Tensing at the slightest creak of the floodboards, sprinting occasionally when she had to... she'd been running away for a long time. This gun meant that she didn't need to be afraid. 

She'd sleep with that gun next to her on the bed, when she rested in her small apartment. Sometimes she'd wake up from a dream and the simple presence of the gun would put her at ease until she fell back asleep. Later, she would think of those few weeks as a sort of honeymoon. She spent her days maintaining, appreciating, and firing her gun... falling in love... but she did not understand how devastating her new love could be.