The Glove Thief

I’m sick of taxicabs. It was a forty-one block walk back to the hotel, but I didn’t care. My red hat kept my head warm. As I walked, I couldn’t help but miss my gloves that some phony stole from me. If I ever find the guy that took them I swear I would go to his room and get them back. I would think about breaking his jaw, but I probably wouldn’t have the guts to do it.