This is one minor memory of a deceased friend. I have many, but not enough.
It was March and we were both drunk, walking across the cold campus of Harvard University. Neither one of us belonged there. I felt conspicuous. He felt like a spy. We were in our early 20's.
“I want to steal something,” my friend said. “I want to steal something from Harvard.”
“Come on. Follow me.”
We sneaked into a building. I followed him straight to the basement.
We walked down the hallway until,“Aha!” he found a lightbulb he wanted. He unscrewed it and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
“Come on let’s get out of here,” I said. Committing crimes always made me nervous.
Then we were back outside and passing a building with tall windows that went straight to the ground. A library. Books and students behind a wall of thick glass.
We noticed a pretty female student sitting at a cubicle, studying.
My friend walked over and tapped on the glass. She turned. He
pulled the lightbulb out of his pocket and held it up for her to admire. Then he gestured, `From me to you,' and placed it on the ground by her feet.
He bowed and we walked on to the nearest bar.
It was a small, poetic gesture befitting a small poetic crime.
The girl probably thought he was a creep and a weirdo and has no memory of his gift.