Elias felt the floor tilt. No, that’s not... I remember my childhood. I remember my mother.
The sound of sirens began to swell in the distance, cutting through the muffled quiet of the library. Elias looked at his hands. They were shaking. He tried to remember his mother’s face, but all he could see was a blurred photograph he’d found in a box years ago. He tried to remember his first day at the library, but it felt like a scene from a movie he’d watched too many times. Identity Thief
The thief didn't jump. He didn't look guilty. He slowly looked up, adjusted his glasses—Elias’s glasses—and offered a small, pitying smile. Hello, Arthur. Arthur? Elias stammered. My name is Elias. Elias felt the floor tilt
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. I remember my mother
He spent the night in a 24-hour diner, nursing a single cup of black coffee paid for with the crumpled twenty-dollar bill he kept in his shoe for emergencies. He watched the news on the mounted TV, half-expecting to see his own face labeled as a fugitive. Instead, he saw something worse.
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Elias backed toward the window. He looked at the man who was currently living his life, wearing his clothes, and possessing his name. He realized he couldn't fight for a life he had stolen, because there was no "Elias" left to save.