Making Easy Money

Jimmy floated through the empty penthouse whistling a little tune to himself. He'd flown in through the balcony door after watching the place for hours with his binoculars, waiting for the owners to leave. No one ever locked their balcony doors, after all who could possibly get to a door fifty stories up? "Jimmy fucking Glick, that's who." He thought to himself with a smug grin.

Now, he casually filled his backpack and pockets with everything that seemed expensive: a laptop, some jewelry, even a little baggie of coke he found in the back of drawer. He'd been doing this about once a week ever since his power manifested. It beat the shit out of his old bar tending gig and besides, the rich fucks he stole from had more than their fair share. Once his pockets and backpack were full he moved back towards the balcony.