So now you have my daughter’s cell phone. She set it down just for a minute, but you saw it and you picked it up and walked away. I hope you doing that didn’t ruin your sleep.
It’s not much of a prize, that cell phone you stole. 
It has been locked, so you can’t use it to call your mother to make her proud of what you’ve done. You can’t take it to a service provider and have it activated because they will know it is stolen.
All you’ve gotten is a list of her friends’ phone numbers, a few grainy photos of people she knows and the last pictures she took of my grandchildren before they moved away. I don’t know that any of those things will do you any good, but they mean a lot to my daughter.
What you ought to do is take the phone and put it back where you found it, but something tells me you won’t. You won’t because in your twisted and small mind, taking something that is not yours is somehow justified, even if it has no monetary value. And value – true value – is something you simply can’t understand.
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