Before I went out today, I swapped out files on my MP3 player. In the process, I deleted a Chinese lesson called "I see a thief!" I had listened to it a couple of times, and it didn’t contain any language I was especially motivated to learn. I couldn’t imagine myself in a situation where I wanted to alert people to a robbery in progress. I walked downtown, listening to some lessons that seemed more relevant, then rewarded myself with an Amos Lee album, singing along with his husky, boyish voice. I went to the flower market hoping to find some forced narcissus – I am either too late or too early, and none of my Chinese lessons has taught me how to ask about that. There were some pussy willows that looked tempting, but I didn’t buy any. I wanted to find some paper lanterns for Lantern Festival tomorrow, and the pussy willows would be awkward to carry around. I knew I could find paper lanterns for sale in a particular pedestrian underpass, so I joined the Saturday afternoon crush of people boarding the #1 bus westbound. Just as I raised my foot to the step, I felt a tug and realized that a hand had crept under my left elbow and unzipped my purse, which I was wearing in front, bandolier-wise, like any savvy urbanite. The pickpocket was a tiny person, a big child or teenager, wearing a jacket with the collar upturned and a longshoreman’s cap. With a surge of adrenaline I began yelling and ran after him. (Or was it a her?) "Stop that guy!" I shrieked in English, "He stole something from me! Grab him! Hey, somebody stop him!" Then I looked down and saw that although my purse was unzipped, my wallet and camera were untouched. I had reacted just in time. My shrieks had attracted some amused attention, but no one had leapt to my aid or tried to catch the thief. I stopped running and trudged back to the bus stop, boarded the next #1 bus.