A Stolen Day I

Ever since he could remember, the boy had a peculiar superpower: he could steal a day from anyone's life. Stealing it didn't mean the owner lost that day or that the boy altered anything about it. The owner would live out that day as destiny intended, undisturbed and unaware of the theft. However, the feelings of that day would be muted because the boy had stolen them to experience himself. In essence, the boy borrowed the owner's eyes to closely observe and feel that day.

The boy used this strange form of thievery to wildly experience other people's lives. Sometimes he would steal a day from a billionaire, other times from a street beggar. Stealing a day here and a day there kept his life from becoming mundane. It was never dull or repetitive, always new, always exciting. Occasionally, he would steal an unpleasant, even painful day. In those instances, he could only consider himself unlucky, as he had to experience the entire day without interruption. Hating these awful experiences made him more cautious. Before stealing a day, he would visit the city's largest and most beautiful park, hiding in an unnoticed corner to observe the picnickers on the lawn. He gauged from their joyful faces whose life might hold a perfect, happy day.

It was in such a scene that the boy first saw the girl. She had just helped up a child who had tripped while running, squatting down to softly console the child and wipe the dirt from their face with a wet wipe. The afternoon sun bathed her smooth, long hair, and her gentle fingers moved gracefully, the wind teasing the edge of her long skirt. She seemed so kind, so gentle. With just one glance, he was smitten. The boy fell in love with the girl.

But the boy didn't truly know the girl, and she didn't know him. Approaching her abruptly would seem rude and presumptuous. Although he had experienced countless romantic moments between couples and witnessed strangers becoming close friends, it was always from an observer's perspective, not through actual practice. In real life, he had never established a genuine connection with anyone—neither family, lovers, nor companions. Facing this situation, he was anxious and lost, not knowing what to do. So, he could only watch silently until the sun set, and the girl walked away with her friends, laughing and chatting.

For the next few days, the boy didn't steal anyone's day. Instead, he spent his own time waiting in the park, hoping the girl would appear again. Sadly, she never came. Dejected, the boy returned to his habit of stealing days to get by, and it was during one of these stolen days that he saw her again. He had stolen a day from a university professor and, through the professor's eyes, saw the girl in a lecture hall. The boy could clearly feel the professor's fondness for this student, admiring her intelligence, diligence, and the near-perfect scores she achieved in exams, as well as her excellent research reports. She was a diligent and brilliant student. Through the professor's perspective, the boy imprinted the image of the girl with her high ponytail, attentively listening in class. It wasn't her appearance, but the focus and brightness in her eyes that made her shine. The boy's understanding and affection for her grew a bit more.

The boy then shifted his focus to people around the girl, such as the manager at the convenience store where she worked, her classmates, and her kind and loving mother. By constantly switching perspectives, he saw different sides of her. He observed her responsible and serious attitude at work, her warm and friendly interactions with friends, and her occasional childishness and dependence in front of her mother. She had her flaws, like being timid, procrastinating, arrogant, impatient, and sometimes making wrong judgments. Some people found her unlikable. The boy experienced their dislike, whether it stemmed from misunderstandings or facts. Initially, he felt frustrated or disappointed, much like when he hastily judged strangers while stealing random days. But this time, he didn't mind. He patiently observed for many days, understanding that these good and bad traits combined to reveal the girl's true self. The boy felt fortunate to have the chance to see her so completely. Her image in his heart became more vivid and full, no longer just a fleeting stranger. Like anyone else, she had shadows trailing her, but they couldn't dim her smile or the light in her eyes. Despite witnessing her vulnerabilities and weaknesses, the boy still cared for her deeply.

This complex blend of feelings eventually overflowed, prompting him to set aside his superpower and use his own time to apply for a job at the convenience store, becoming her colleague. In the past, he would never have done this. He couldn't bear the monotonous routine of daily life, mingling in the vast crowd as a small figure. That's why he indulged in stealing others' days, skipping over the repetition and dullness to savor only the most exciting and thrilling moments. Now, he stayed in this small convenience store, working the night shift steadily. The boy no longer wanted to observe the girl through someone else's eyes but to watch her with his own, to be by her side.

This was a significant challenge for the boy. He had to muster courage to cross the line from observer to participant, awkwardly introducing himself to colleagues and dealing with the comings and goings of customers. And, of course, standing in front of the girl, blushing, and saying, "Hello." Only heaven knew how fast his heart was beating at that moment.

The girl was kind to the newcomer, teaching him the store's rules and generously sharing her work tips. The boy tried hard to learn, but he wasn't quick to adapt. He had never needed to do these things before, and the smallest tasks were often the hardest. He didn't even know how to apologize and explain to a dissatisfied customer. In the past, he just watched from behind the person whose day he had stolen, not participating and thus avoiding responsibility. Now, the troubles in front of him wouldn't vanish on their own. The girl had to step in, explaining the situation to the customer kindly and offering coupons to appease them, saving the store from further complaints. Watching the customer leave, the boy felt guilty for causing the girl so much trouble. But she patted his shoulder and smiled, encouraging him, "Don't worry, you're doing much better than I did when I first started."

Such a simple sentence, yet it held great power. It was enough to support the boy as he continued learning to handle the store's little details and trifles. This time, life reciprocated his effort. The boy gradually learned to manage the store's tasks without the girl's guidance. After smoothly dealing with a troublesome customer, seeing the girl give him a thumbs-up from behind the counter, the boy suddenly felt a wave of relief. It felt like the exhilaration of learning to ride a bike for the first time as a child. Honestly, the boy hadn't experienced such a real sense of accomplishment in a long time. He found himself missing it.

As he became familiar with the job, the boy also grew closer to the girl. Many nights, when there were few customers, they had time to chat. The boy was no longer as reserved as he initially was, having adapted to face-to-face conversations. The experiences he had stolen became a treasure trove of stories, and he picked the most interesting ones to share with the girl, making her laugh uncontrollably. He loved seeing her smile, so he chose more exciting days to tell her about. She listened eagerly, her eyes reflecting his image, sparkling with interest. "I can't believe your past was so interesting," she teased. "Fate must have favored you, letting you live a life worth many lifetimes."

Suddenly, the boy fell silent. He couldn't tell her that those experiences weren't his, but stolen. After that, he spoke less, and they finished their shift in a slightly awkward silence. Walking home alone, his steps were slow, his mind blank. Reflecting on his past, his life filled with stolen days was like a thick album full of beautiful photos, recording countless special, thrilling moments. But if he removed those photos, the album itself was blank. No matter how many days he stole from others, he couldn't steal true family, real friends, or genuine talents and emotions. As he no longer needed to observe the girl through others' eyes, the reflection in her eyes wasn't the real him. It was a façade pieced together from stolen fragments of other lives. The boy stopped and looked up at the night sky shrouded in dark clouds, letting out a sigh that no one heard.