The sight of Magda with my bear spoon dangling carelessly from her mouth is burned into my retinas forever. She stood in the lounge with her hands on her hips, her short-cropped hair and round glasses giving her a vaguely militant air. The faded green tank top made her chest look even larger than it really was—Or maybe it was just the pose. I don’t know anymore.
But that smug grin of hers—accented by my spoon! Ugh, she really got on my nerves.
“Isn’t that my little spoon?” I asked, using every ounce of self-control not to call her a thieving bitch.
She didn’t even answer. Just shook her head with a grin.
My fist clenched in the pocket of my shorts.
“It’s just… I have a spoon exactly like that, and I can’t find it anywhere. My grandma gave it to me for my fifth birthday.”
“Well, how funny! I got mine from my grandma too!”
Unbelievable. The nerve. She just parroted me back like a smug parrot in a tank top.
And yet—I’d been warned. People said Magda had sticky fingers. That she didn’t just take what she needed, but anything someone happened to leave lying around. But I hadn’t forgotten anything anywhere. I’d just left my dirty dishes in the dorm kitchen. The sink was full, and I didn’t feel like dragging everything back to my room. Well, that laziness sure paid off.
Of course she didn’t care about my ugly, fake-wood plastic bowl shaped like a kidney dish. No, just the bear spoon. She grabbed it immediately and now she’s waving it around in her mouth like some trophy. Gross. Poor bear… Drenched in Magda’s saliva.
I could hardly believe my eyes when, a few days later, I spotted the little spoon in the kitchen again, sitting among a pile of dirty dishes. I hadn’t expected that. I thought once she stole it, she’d never let it go—But she just left it there like it meant nothing to her. The ungrateful cow. I glanced around the empty room. If I take it back now, does that make me just like her? But it’s mine!
I snatched the sticky spoon, shoved it under my shirt, and bolted toward my room as fast as I could. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, heart racing, knees trembling. Like some petty criminal. I pulled the spoon out carefully and examined it. No doubt. It was mine. I laid it gently on a tissue. Now I had to wait for early morning to wash it. Magda mustn’t see it—she’d probably rip it out of my hands.
And honestly, I get it. It is a great spoon. Once used to scoop soup from a little enamel bowl with goats painted on the side, now it stirs my morning coffee. If I have a cake with it, the spoon scoops just the right amount. The head is perfectly shaped, the grip is comfortable, and it’s cute. Plus, it’s mine. Since I was five. Good thing I found it just as I started university. I probably didn’t even realize then how precious it would become. It’s been four years since, and it’s been with me through every school year. It’ll stay with me as an adult too—I already know that. If I ever have a kid, maybe I’ll give it to them. Or maybe not. Maybe they can borrow it sometimes. You don’t have to give everything to your child. They’ll get their own spoon. Maybe one with a pig on it. That’s cute too, right?
Magda stood with her hands in her pockets, leaning against my desk.
“So, what do you think of the new washing machines?” she asked.
I knew that’s not why she came. Why would she suddenly want to discuss the new laundry room appliances with me? We never talk. And now, out of nowhere, she had to come into my room for a chat? While waiting for my answer, she let her eyes slowly scan the room. Her gaze lingered on my shelf, then casually drifted over her shoulder toward the desk. That’s when she saw it. The mug behind the dictionary. With the bear spoon sticking out.
“There it is, huh?” she smirked, nodding toward it.
“Yep. Luckily, I found it.”
“Where was it?” she asked sweetly, as if she didn’t already know.
“It got mixed up with my roommate’s silverware.”
Her eyes widened.
“You don’t think she was trying to steal it, do you?”