Identity | Thief

He’s me, Elias whispered to the steam rising from his cup. He’s doing my life better than I did.

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. 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. He’s me, Elias whispered to the steam rising from his cup

Elias felt a cold prickle at the base of his neck. That’s impossible. I am Elias Thorne. He watched the news on the mounted TV,

Elias backed away. He reached into his pocket for his phone, but when he tried to unlock it with his thumbprint, the sensor vibrated in rejection. He tried his passcode. Incorrect.

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.

I’m the upgrade, the thief whispered. I’m the one who’s going to use this life for something. You’re just the man who stole it first. And now, I’ve reported Arthur Vance for the murder of Elias Thorne. The police are on their way.