KLEPTOMANIA

The family steals to order. High-value objects, specified by clients, retrieved with planning and precision. What Yveza does privately is something different; something he's not entirely conscious of.

He takes small things. A coat button. A lighter. A coin from the edge of a fountain. A pen left on a cafe's table. Nothing valuable, nothing anyone will miss. The objects end up in his pockets without him making that choice. He notices the items, and then later they'll appear in his pockets. A moment between he can't remember.

He tells himself it is the philosophy made instinct. That ownership is temporary, and his hands simply know this before his mind does.

Whether he fully believes that, or it's a story he tells to avoid looking at something else; something about need, about the compulsion to hold things that feel unguarded and close; is a question he does not ask himself directly. The objects accumulate. He keeps them in a small tin, he has never sold any of them.