Identity - Thief

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.

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

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. Elias backed toward the window

He reached his office— their office—and peered through the glass. The thief was sitting at the mahogany desk, typing rapidly. He looked comfortable. He looked like he belonged. Elias burst in, his eyes wild. Who are you? A local news segment featured a "Human Interest"

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.

I’m sorry, sir, the young man said, not looking up from his tablet. Residents only. I live here, Elias said, his voice thin. 4B. Elias Thorne.