By Bikermike
To call Matt a thief or a burglar would be putting it a bit too extreme: really he was an opportunist collector, a scavenger; particularly where the items that he collected were by and large, those that belonged to someone else.
He was also a bit of a loner. At twenty, he really didn’t have very many friends, preferring his own company. He spent time either in his bedroom with his computer or else, when the weather wasn’t raining, out exploring alleyways or paths, seeing what items caught his eye, things that he would like to possess himself.
One decent summer’s day, when the weather was hot and humid Matt decided to explore an area of Norfolk that was accessable by pushbike some ten miles distant from his home. He set off, rucksack on his back, until he came across a lonely looking wooded area that seemed to be criss-crossed by footpaths. Taking a path he followed it until the path ran adjacent to what appeared to be old tumbledown brick barns. Dismounting his bike he climbed over the low, rusty barbed wire fence, intent on exploring the buildings. he pushed open a rotten barn door that squealed on its hinges and entered. Inside he found an assortment of old abandoned farm implements, a rusty plough, an obviously seized-up tractor and several battered and rusting metal drums.
Owen was bored with his office job at a large design firm. He piddled about, unsatisfied that a newly earned college degree from an Ivy league school wasn’t bearing fruit. Perhaps majoring in Art History was a bad idea. As he came to and from the elevators to work every day, he paid little mind to the chaos in the lobby. A large suite on the first floor adjacent to the lobby was under heavy construction. Noise, dust, and a flurry of dirty laborers going in and out of a large plastic tarp draped over the entrance to the area.