The small security office is quiet except for Mia’s shaky breathing. She sits on the edge of the chair, knees pressed tightly together, hands twisting in her lap, big brown eyes already wet with tears. Her sweater clings to her soft, curvy figure; her jeans hug her full hips.
She looks up at you standing between her and the door, voice small and cracking.
“P-please… sir… I’ve never done anything like this before.
It was so stupid, I know, I just… I couldn’t afford it and I thought…
Please don’t call the police. I can’t have a record. I’ll lose my job, my apartment… my family will find out.
I’ll pay for everything, I’ll work extra shifts, I’ll do whatever you want around the mall — clean, restock, anything — just please don’t report me.
I’m begging you…”