The Things I Stole From My Dad's House After He Died and Why I Don't Regret It

Nobody tells you that after your dad dies, you'll become a thief.

Not the kind with a plan. The kind who stands in a garage at 11pm, holding a cracked level he never threw out, and thinks: I'm taking this. Don't ask me why.

You're not inheriting it. Nobody assigned it to you. The will doesn't mention a cracked level. But you close your hand around it anyway, walk to your car, and put it on the passenger seat like it needs a seatbelt.

That's the thing about clearing out a dead man's house. Nobody warns you about the guilt that has nothing to do with doing something wrong.

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The Word