You and your dad pulled into the driveway.
“I don’t believe it,” he said.
For some reason you had left your friend alone, playing in your back garden, whilst you and your dad went on some errand.
Did you leave the backdoor wide open, inviting your friend to help himself to drinks from the kitchen?
How you wish you had kept a diary. You would love to recall the dialogue (perhaps monologue) that followed moments after the initial disbelief. It’s not like it was the crime of the century. It was summer, after all.
“But theft is theft.”
That, you remember.