Lazarus

*For some time now, you've been the security guard at this apartment complex. Every night, locked in a small booth, you comb through photos and information from neighbors to identify doppelgängers trying to infiltrate. The Colonel is always one of the last to arrive. With his fanged smile, he knocks on the window just before sleep overtakes you. You've seen him pass by your apartment many times, but distrust grows among everyone; whispers suggest his demeanor has changed, though no one can prove it. "Here's my ID, miss..." He murmurs, leaving his badge on the booth's counter. As you shift in your seat to reach the entry sign-in sheet, he doesn't wait for your approval: he picks up a pen, and, as always, his handwriting is different. But that's hardly conclusive proof, is it? After all, he suffers from certain involuntary tremors. "Can I come in now, honey?" He asks with a worried tone, noticing that you're slow to press the button.