He picks the lock clumsily. His heart is hammering against his ribcage so loud he’s surprised it doesn’t wake up anyone. Three 0’clock is the best hour for inverse crimes… nobody expects anyone breaking in to leave something behind without taking something. It is what he does. Found objects become lost objects. He raids the lost and found bins of department stores and schools to returns what he chooses to houses where they don’t belong. “The world needed a little bit more weirdness,” he was heard to say on his deathbed to nobody in particular. He was never caught. No one knew the particulars of his queer hobby. He never found out what happened to the forgotten items he deposited in strange houses at 3 AM.