Irina steals everything, a compulsion Jack blinds himself to because life is so much easier when you don't see anything but the way your wife slinks across the sheets like you're the only prey she desires. Lipsticks and nail polishes line the underside of the sink where she keeps her tampons, as if she thinks his gray-haired masculinity will never venture in there. A pair of tawdry earrings intertwined with the diamonds he bought her on their anniversary, a pack of gum under her birth control pills. He doesn't speak of these things because no man wants to admit their wife is a kleptomaniac, because what man wouldn't blame himself when his wife looks to a pack of gum to bring excitement into her life.

Jack realizes now she was keeping her skills sharp, the better to steal herself away without a sound.