Identity Thief -

Within an hour, Elias Thorne had no home, no money, and no digital existence. He was a ghost standing on a street corner in a coat that felt too thin for the rising wind.

Desperation drove him back to the library the next morning. He didn't go through the front. He used the delivery bay, slipping in behind a crate of periodicals. He knew the blind spots of the security cameras; he had mapped them out himself during a boring summer shift. Identity Thief

The thief sat back down and resumed typing. You should run, Arthur. It’s what you’re best at. Within an hour, Elias Thorne had no home,

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. He didn't go through the front

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.

Elias felt a cold prickle at the base of his neck. That’s impossible. I am Elias Thorne.