The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman.Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mutebeneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a matewith a mind as cold as the slice of icewithin my own brain. I started with the head.Better off dead than giving in, not takingwhat you want. He weighed a ton; his torso,frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chillpiercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowingthat children would cry in the morning. Life's tough.Sometimes I steal things I don't need. I joy-ride carsto nowhere, break into houses just to have a look.I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera.I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob.A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this - Aah.It took some time. Reassembled in the yard,he didn't look the same. I took a runand booted him. Again. Again. My breath ripped outin rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standingalone among lumps of snow, sick of the world.Boredom. Mostly I'm so bored I could eat myself.One time, I stole a guitar and thought I mightlearn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once,flogged it, but the snowman was the strangest.You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you? Read The poem carefully and then answer some of the Questions.

Somebody (steal) _____my sunglasses at the swimming pool last week.A.has stolenB.stealsC.stealedD.Stole

feel my eyes sting from the bittersweetness of the heighten emotions of anticipation, but I was done with crying. No matter how much my lips shook or how my eyes welled up, I refused to let them fall.With trembling hands, I tore off the paper. Anxiety wreaked havoc in my body from opening yet a present. I knew I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't let the guys keep sending me gifts, because then, I didn't know who it was from, and I felt compelled to open every single one of them in case it was from them, and not him. Joy and fear mixed together was a toxin to my body; both were so overwhelmingly present, but when fear won out, it poisoned the joy, making the feeling something I started to become afraid of too.7It exhausted me.It drained me completely.I breathed out a sigh of relief when the painting came into view. Instead of something grotesque that I had pictured in my head, it was a painting of a lake with ducks swimming in it.7It was heartbreakingly beautiful because it instantly reminded me of the days I used to go with my grandmother to the lake to feed the ducks. This painting...it held memories in it, even though the lake was far too small than the one my grandmother and I visited, and the trees were different. This...it almost made my tears spill, but I still refused.2But even in my relief that this wasn't another gift from him, the nerves took far too long to settle. The water still welled in my eyes made it difficult to read the note with my blurry vision. The only thing I managed to see was Mateo's name as I found the card taped to the back of the frame. For once, I couldn't find it in myself to read the most assuredly sweet message from him.The sheer fear I felt every time someone called my intercom ruined me. It didn't matter that some of them was from the guys because other times, they weren't. Not knowing who it would be from was ruining me, wrecking me so thoroughly that it took ages before I could come down from the fright. Each time the intercom rang, my body went into a state of panic, shooting stress hormones into my body. And each time, I got less and less joy out of the gifts that were from the guys; it didn't matter how sweet they were, or how much I wanted to bask in the joy, because my body struggled more and more to alternate between dread and happiness.Finally, I was done. I couldn't go through this again, and again, and again. If this kept happening, my body would soon give out on me, and I couldn't afford that, not when I needed the energy to find this person who was doing this so I could finally get some peace of mind.My hands continued to tremble as I picked up my phone and found Mateo's number in my contacts. I tried steadying my breath as I waited for him to answer."Good morning, Gorgeous. Did you get my package?" Mateo sounded so hopeful, I had to close my eyes to keep the tears from coming out."Please don't send any more gifts to me," I whispered hoarsely."Oh, didn't you like it?" he asked with a good dash of disappointment."It's not..." Breathe in. Breathe out. "It's not that. I just...I need more space than I originally thought I did." I lost the battle the second I blinked. My tears slipped soundlessly down my cheeks, and my heart that had already been broken one too many times these past weeks broke once more.Mateo went quiet for a while. Enough for me to wonder if he'd hung up on me."I...I see. We'll stop sending you gifts. I will talk to the guys and let them know.""Thank you," I whispered.74"How are you feeling, gorgeous? The guys said you were exhausted yesterday so I didn't want to call in case I woke you up. I'm sorry I couldn't be there."I shook my head. "You have no reason to apologize. I'm doing fine though. I've gotten over the worst shock.""That's good. You know that you can always call me if you ever need anything, right?"I choked out a confirmation that sounded more like a weak agreement. "I...I need to hang up now, my mom is calling. Thank you for checking in with me, and for the painting, it was sweet of you."4"Anytime. Take care, gorgeous."2Blinking away the tears, I stared at the black screen on my phone before putting it away.The scent of the plants around my apartment as I took a deep breath did nothing to help with the heavy feeling inside my chest. Mateo's disappointment was hard to bear, and I almost regretted telling him that I didn't want to receive any more from them. Almost. I knew I needed to set boundaries for myself if I wanted to avoid running myself into the ground. Still, I kept hearing the heaviness in Mateo's voice and I realized that the gifts had never only been for me, but maybe for them too, like it had been a way for them to stay connected to me when we weren't together.

“Narratives have the power to explore the highest and lowest points of humanity, exposing fundamental truths about the human spirit” Discuss this statement with close reference to Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief.

“Narratives have the power to explore the highest and lowest points of humanity, exposing fundamental truths about the human spirit” Discuss this statement with close reference to Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief in an essay

He only saw and heard the enormous growling dog after his feet touched the ground, and so, with a yelp, the thief hurried to _________ back up and over the fence.frolicbrandishclambertaper