Identity | Thief

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?

He went to the nearest ATM, three blocks away, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He shoved his debit card into the slot. He typed his PIN with trembling fingers. The screen didn’t show his balance. It simply flickered once and swallowed the card. A message appeared in stark, white letters: Account Closed. Please contact your local branch. Identity Thief

The thief sat back down and resumed typing. You should run, Arthur. It’s what you’re best at. The thief stood up

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. A drifter

He climbed out onto the fire escape just as the heavy thud of boots hit the hallway outside. He disappeared into the city, a man with no name, no past, and no face, searching for a new shadow to inhabit. If you’d like to keep going with this story, let me know: