The thief stood up. He walked to the door and locked it. You were Arthur Vance, he said quietly. A drifter. A man with a record for petty theft and a history of disappearing. You stole the identity of a quiet archivist named Elias Thorne five years ago. Did you really think you were the first person to have this idea?
A local news segment featured a "Human Interest" story about a generous donation made to the city library’s restoration fund. The donor was a "local philanthropist and rising star in the archival world." The screen showed the man from the lobby’s monitor. He was standing in Elias’s office, wearing Elias’s favorite tweed jacket, shaking hands with the Head Librarian. Identity Thief
When he tried to swipe his keycard at the lobby elevator that Tuesday evening, the reader blinked a spiteful, jagged red. He tried again. Red. He walked to the concierge desk, where a young man he didn’t recognize was monitoring the screens. The thief stood up
He’s me, Elias whispered to the steam rising from his cup. He’s doing my life better than I did. A drifter
The guard sighed, the weary sound of someone dealing with a prankster. He tapped a few keys and turned the monitor around. There was the resident profile for 4B. The name was correct. The social security number, the emergency contact, the employer—all Elias’s. But the photo attached to the file was not Elias. It was a man with a broader jaw, thicker hair, and a smile that looked far more confident than Elias had ever managed to be.
The thief stepped closer. You remember the memories you memorized from the real Elias’s journals. You did such a good job hiding the body that you actually started to believe the lie. But you got lazy, Arthur. You stopped being 'Elias' and started just being a shadow.