Crosbie Potts

“Well then, all the best on your new adventure. Oh yes, Crossy, I will help you with the temporary closure sign. Take care, dear. Always good to hear from you.”

Another morning at Not Didcot, the sun hadn’t risen, and only pigeons were cooing. Pott’s Bikes & Repair remained closed. Crosbie’s mother came to clean the shop and wipe off the dust. The neighbors passed by and greeted Crosbie’s mother, asking where Crosbie had been. Crosbie’s mom smiled, shook her head, and stared in the direction of the train station.

At the Not Paddington Station of Notlondon, two people dressed in suits were blending in the crowd hustling for the rush hour.

“Another task done, right, mentor?” Crosbie, now working alongside Fred Reading, the international super thief.

“Not finished until we successfully get away. You’ve got more to learn, Crosbie,” said Fred. “However, I am quite intrigued why you picked a picture frame to take this time.”

“Well, it is for someone important. Alright, gotta go!”

The steps of the Not London Police were near, but not for the two. In the blink of an eye, the two folded their black coats into backpacks. Fred got a beret from a passenger nearby while Crosbie got a scarf to go with it. The umbrella in Crosbie’s hand was folded and turned into a briefcase, while Fred casually took out a pair of glasses to put on and started to talk with his thick French accent. The two managed to get on a train heading up north, calling at Not Didcot.

The first light of morning glory arrived at the porch of Crosbie’s mother’s house. An anonymous package was placed on the doormat. No information was written on it, except for a magenta “X” that seemed to be spray-painted. With caution, Crosbie’s mother opened the package on the porch.

The package was lighter than expected. Inside, a picture frame inlaid with gold and decorated with sapphire and pearl was sealed. There was a photo in the frame, one that should have been taken years ago but seemed to be recently developed: Little Crosbie was sitting on a stool, playing with plastic tool replicas in their hands. On the left was their mother wearing a black apron on top of her dress. On the right, their father, slightly chubby but cheerful and carefree as always, with a cigarette in one hand and a toolbox in the other. Brand new bikes were placed at their back, along with the newly renovated Pott’s Bikes and Repair.

That was 15 years ago, before Crosbie’s father passed away, before Crosbie’s parents divorced, and before Crosbie lost their best friend.

Crosbie’s mother placed the frame by her bedroom window, where robins chirp on the oak branches. The birds would then spread their wings and join the flock flying across the track. Meanwhile, a train departing from Not Paddington had just passed the station of Not Didcot.

By Ruoqi H.