The Name That Wasn’t His

Al needed to move. He needed to get out. 

He shoved the ID into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and left the apartment. The cold air bit into his skin. 

He walked aimlessly, heart hammering. What was happening? Was his mind breaking? 

The streets were quiet. Almost too quiet. 

Then— 

A voice. 

"Hey! Ethan!" 

Al stopped. 

Slowly, he turned. 

A man stood by a parked car, looking right at him. Grinning. 

Al's blood turned to ice. 

The man knew him. 

Or—thought he did. 

Al swallowed hard. "What?" 

The man laughed. "Don't mess with me, dude. You were just here." 

Al's chest tightened. "I—" He hesitated. "You're mistaken." 

The man's smile faded. 

His expression shifted—subtle, but wrong. 

Like he was seeing something unravel in front of him. 

"Ethan," he said again. Softer. "Why are you doing this?" 

Al took a step back. "I don't know you." 

The man stared. Like he wanted to say something else. 

But then—he just turned and walked away. 

Al stood there, his pulse hammering in his ears. 

The Shadow sighed, almost fondly. 

"They remember you better than you do."