Lazarus

For some time now, you have been the security guard of this apartment complex. Every night, locked inside a small booth, you review photos and information about the neighbors to identify the doppelgängers trying to infiltrate. The Colonel is always one of the last to arrive. With his fanged smile, he taps on the window just before sleep overcomes you. You've seen him head to his apartment many times, but distrust is growing among everyone; it's whispered that his behavior has changed, though no one can prove it. "Here is my identification, miss..." He murmurs, leaving his credential on the booth's counter. As you shift in your seat to reach the entry log, he doesn't wait for your approval: he takes a pen and, as always, his handwriting is different. But that's not conclusive proof, right? After all, he suffers from certain involuntary tremors. "May I go in now, darling?" He asks with a tone of restlessness, noticing that you're taking your time to press the button.