Everyday Mia would visit the small restaurant on the corner. Everyday she entered through the double doors, discarding the trash from lunch, and she was immediately greeted with a warm welcome from the staff who learned to love her. Everyday they exchanged polite greetings, then she ordered, not that she needed to anymore, they knew her well enough. Everyday the crew loved her a little bit more, especially on the bad days when customers were more disrespectful than usual.
"Laura," They'd call, "you're food is ready!"
She'd languidly munch on her meal and read whatever book she felt like bringing that day. Her hands were sore from work, massaging about eight or nine people busy days, like today, but she ignored it and continued on with her life.
Sometimes she wondered, or feared might be a better term, if they'd ever realize. If they'd find out the truth, that her name was not Laura. Mia wondered if one day she would be on the news, with the crew that had grown to love her so much watching as she was escorted away in handcuffs.
But she doubted it would happen. She was smart, using the card for small amounts here and there. Amounts that the real Laura wouldn't miss, wouldn't notice. She was kind to everyone, as part of her nature, but also so they wouldn't suspect her. Everything she did was meticulously planned, right down to the second. The real Laura would never know, and by the time she did, if she ever did find out, Mia would have enough money saved up to disappear forever.
She closed her book, sanitized her hands, tossed out her trash and thanked the crew for yet another amazing meal. They all took a moment to offer a goodbye and good day before she left. And when she did leave, she went home and pulled up Laura's records, just to make sure that the charge would go unnoticed, covered by a larger expense. She smiled and laid down to rest.
