Dissimulation (IN PROGRESS)

You become the person you pretend to be. Horrible people hide underneath kind smiles and good intentions. And sometimes vice-versa. But that’s how the bright city of Cosa is. The capital of all of the world, at least that’s how it seemed, was just a big cover-up. Because once you see past the light-filled streets and enormous wealth, you see the real problems that are arising.
The dark of night settled in as I walked down the empty streets. Lights flickered inside decrepit houses, and shadows danced across the windows. All was silent except for my breathing and the light buzzing sound emitting from the street lights. It was in stark contrast from the city I had emerged, which was bustling even at this late hour. The air was fresher here, more crisp with the cool of oncoming autumn. But I took no time pondering over these things. I had somewhere I had to be. And fast.
I walked as fast as I dared, turning down the moonlit roads. Soon, I reached the small brick house that was my destination and quickly crept around the side. The window was open, just as the letter had promised. Its words echoed in my head, in and out. They’ll be home in a matter of minutes. Get it and get out. I slid through the open window and landed silently on the carpet. It was strange to see carpet in this town since it was a luxury only for those with immense wealth. I padded across the room, noticing every detail. From the patterned couch to the small marble coaster sitting on the end table, this place stood out from the other houses, and it looked expensive.
Beside the globe you’ll find a desk. I looked around for a few seconds before noticing the small globe, something I had rarely ever seen in person. I ran a finger over the large dot that represented Cosa, the capital. And not very far to its left was the small dot of Scintilla, the town that I was in now. But I quickly moved on. The desk was made of wood, with small drawers lining the bottom. There were a few papers on top, which I quickly pocketed. I couldn’t read them in the dark, but later, I could decipher them and find out what they were.
Look to the bottom right-hand drawer and find the button. I shuffled through the other drawers quickly, but when I reached the bottom right one, I noticed it was creakier than the others. An alert system, that to the untrained ear would sound normal. But to me, it sounded as if the person who lived here didn’t trust anyone to rifle through this desk. There were two things inside, a little box filled with thumbtacks, which was another luxury not many people received, and a small mirror. I held it up to the moonlight creeping in from the open window and saw it was made of gold. Not that cheap stuff that Cosa provides for us, but real gold. I resisted taking it because if the person didn’t realize their papers were gone, they sure were gonna notice this was. But I couldn’t help looking at myself in it.
I hadn’t seen my reflection in a while because I was too busy trying to survive. I wasn’t like the rich ladies in Cosa, getting all sorts of things done to them to get them to look better. But a couple of years ago, I looked like a little kid, and now I had been through so much and had grown too. My hair had gotten longer and more wild; my skin was tanned with more freckles. My eyes, however, had stayed the same, still the dark blue that I’ve had since I was little. I looked at myself in the mirror for a little longer before reluctantly putting it back. Then I stuck my hand in the drawer and felt around for a button. Soon, I found a little raised area in the very back of the drawer. I pressed it, and it wouldn’t budge. I pushed on it with all my might, and soon, I felt it give way. The desk split in two, by an invisible seam I hadn’t seen before. I was expecting something like this, but it was still surprising.
At this point, they should have found out what you are doing. So go in quickly, take the small wrapped parcel. And most importantly, do not open it! I sped through the door once it opened and searched the area. It was a small den-like area with dark wood walls and a long table in the middle. I sifted through the pile of things sitting in a heap on the table, looking for a wrapped parcel. And soon, I found it. It was inconspicuous, wrapped in brown paper and at the very bottom. It was small, and the shape was indistinguishable. But as I grabbed it, I realized it was quite heavy. But I quickly tucked it in my pants pocket with the papers I had taken. Then I ran back out the door.
Make sure there is no evidence of you being there. I pressed the button again, and the door shut. I turned towards the window, about to make my run for it when a loud crash from outside the window startled me. I ran and hid beside the window behind a large armchair. I heard a few words, someone grumbling about something. Then someone appeared in the window.
I couldn’t tell exactly who or what it was because it was so dark, but they were blocking my only escape route. They reached out and tugged on the window, and it slid up smoothly. As they crawled through the window, I got a better look at their face. Or rather his face. It was a boy, not that much older than me, with shaggy blond hair and bright eyes. He crawled about halfway through before losing his balance and falling onto the floor, creating a loud ruckus. He got up swiftly and started looking around. I retreated back into the shadows, hoping he wasn’t very observant. But as he looked around, he seemed to stop for a second at the armchair. Please, please, I thought. But it was too late.
“Who are you?” He asked rather loudly. I slipped back out of the shadows and stood up.
“Why are you here?” I whispered.
“I should be asking you the same question,” he said.
“Be quiet!” I whispered harshly. “You’ll get us caught!” He looked around for a second and then looked back at me.
“By who?” I was getting frustrated with this boy. Why didn’t he just take my word for it?
“Fine, you go get caught. I’m leaving,” I started towards the window.
“No,” He blocked the window. “If you don’t explain, I’ll scream my head off.” I sighed internally. If he wasn’t going to move, I would have to do things the hard way. I reached into my pants pocket, the movement slow and hopefully undetectable. I wrapped my fingers around the small package and pulled it out. My hand still tucked behind my back, I moved closer to the boy.
“Okay, fine,” I whispered. And then, with a quick movement, I struck him on the head with the parcel. He crumpled to the floor. I examined the package to make sure it was undamaged, which it was. Then, I pulled myself out of the window. As I looked back at the boy, laying on the floor in a patch of moonlight, I felt guilty. But that was how thieves worked. Fend for yourself. This boy must not have been a thief, or rather not for long. I covered my footprints and snuck around the backside of the house. From there, I hopped a neighbor’s fence and stealthily crept along the edges of people’s backyards. Get rid of it as soon as possible. I had to keep moving. I snuck around in the shadows, papers crinkling in my pockets. I had to drop these off soon. I was making too much noise.
The drop-off point was in the city, as usual. I'd take a train there in the morning, because it's always dangerous to ride at night. For now, I scanned the empty roads for any sign of security. They should've been there by now, but they were running late. Or they were called off. Either way, someone wanted to try and find me themselves. The letter was clear. There's no way the owner of this package didn't know I took it. I had to get out of here. I continued running away, my feet light on the grass.
I had a room in a small motel barely outside of town, with glowing signs screaming harsh words at me. It was dead silent at this time of night, the only other inhabitants deep asleep a few doors down. It was someone from Cosa, passing through on his way to the ports. He must be going there for a trade opportunity, judging by his big bags and his tight-lipped looks at me. He wasn't going to leave because no one left nowadays. Everyone who left died.
I quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside, avoiding the light switch. My eyes had already adjusted to the dark, and turning on the bright fluorescents was immediately suspicious, especially to the paranoid dealer next door. Instead, I crept into the bathroom and flicked on the small, moth-covered lamp that hovered over the sink. Then, I emptied my pockets onto the small countertop.
Business documents. Lots of them. Receipts and legalese and anything else that you would find in a business man's file cabinet. But they weren't in a file cabinet, I told myself. He must have been poring over them enough so that he left them out on the desk, too tired to put them away. I knew that these had nothing to do with the parcel. A man this secretive, who has layers of security for one simple item, would not leave out deathly important papers on a desk. These were his cover. I scanned them, looking for any signatures, any company names, and anything to tell me who I was stealing from. The letter told me not to open the parcel, but it told me nothing about finding out who owned that house.
After a few more minutes of reading over his papers, I decided to call it for the night. There was nothing, not even a seal for his corporation. Exhaustion had already taken my bones for its own, and I needed a few hours of sleep. If not, I would have to sleep on the train, and I hated sleeping in public places. I had enough trouble falling asleep on my own; add in chatty strangers and an unknown environment, I was done for. I threw the papers in the sink, thoroughly soaking them. When I was done, only a small pile of wet mush lay in the middle, and I quickly flushed it down the toilet. The parcel went into the small trash can, covered in toilet paper, and the bathroom door was locked.
The next morning, I would pick the bathroom's lock and head to my train. Right now, I lazily shed my sweaty clothes and went to sleep.

It only took me a few minutes to open the bathroom door, change, and get out of the motel. I tried my best to look inconspicuous, just a lady on a trip, passing through this small town on the way to something bigger. I checked out of the motel, looking unhurried and oblivious to the suffering around me. Even the receptionist, who was less of a receptionist and more of a squatter, seemed fed up with my attitude.
“Will that be all? I've got a train to catch,” I said, picking up my bag.
“Yes, thanks for staying.” Her voice was tinged with sourness. She saw me as a rich bigot, spending my infinite hoards of money on trips “around the world”. That's exactly what I wanted.
“Alright, you have a good day,” I said, knowing full well she won't. She'd probably just sit behind that desk, twiddling her thumbs until another rich scumbag checked in. With that, I turned and left, holding my bag against my side. I actually did have a train to catch.

The train was silent, besides the quiet talking coming from two small children in the back. A boy and a girl dressed in worn outfits, with badly brushed hair and ruddy cheeks. They were clutching their tickets tightly, as if they were afraid the tickets would sprout wings and fly away. It must've been their first train ride, going to the city for better chances. My heart hurt for them because I knew what it was like, because I had lived that life before. I still did, to some degree, perhaps just a little more comfortably.
I made a note not to walk past them. Poor souls like us have grabby fingers.
The rest of the ride was uneventful, with most of us keeping to ourselves. At the station, I followed the horde of people filing out of the train and hurriedly made my way out of the station. Groups of people were huddled around, some groups of friends, and other groups of homeless huddling together for warmth. The autumn had come full blast last night, unleashing rain and cold temperatures, enough to make every sidewalk and road slippery. I carefully walked along the roads, watching the milieu of cars speed by. A few months ago, I set up shop here. A few months from now, I'd leave again. That was the nature of this kind of work. You could never stay anywhere for long.
My small apartment was part of a bigger complex, filled to the brim with all sorts of people. I watched them, noted them, and made sure none of them got too close. I'd grown to be very paranoid over the years, as evident by the way I scanned the sidewalk as I walked. Due to the colder weather, there weren't many stray walkers. This was part of the reason I enjoyed autumn so much.
The walk wasn't long, but I had a habit of falling deep into my mind when I walked. It preoccupied me, taking my mind off the present. Plus, I enjoyed reviewing my past and analyzing for mistakes. It made me better at what I did.
The heist had gone about as well as I expected it to, besides a couple of things. One of which I couldn't take my mind off of.
Who was the boy? Why was he there? Any self-respecting thief would leave the second they saw another had beat them to it. Most of all, another thief would not threaten to get both of them caught. If his employer knew he did that, a coward’s move, I'm sure he would be fired on the spot. He didn't look disheveled like many of us do; in fact, he looked relatively clean. I washed myself regularly, but not many others could afford that luxury. And even though I could, it's not like I could look in a mirror to fix my hair. He looked as if he had spent an hour in front of a mirror, adjusting each hair just so. I shuddered slightly, hopefully unnoticeable to those walking past. He must've been a daddy's boy who got cut off and thought he could easily steal a few jewels and be set for life. Little did he know that so many people were robbing houses for that exact reason that the price had dropped significantly. He would have to steal triple the amount to even make half of what he would've gotten before, something I learned early on.
The apartment complex was barren and dull, like many of its type around the country. They were severely restricted on what they could supply their residents, so many owners bought old businesses and renovated them, simply adding a stove and a toilet. My apartment building was an old grocery, complete with rotten fruit and wall-mounted refrigerators. Luckily, those were all removed soon after it was bought. The fruit smell still lingered though, its cloying, sweet scent seeping into my pores. I climbed my way up the staircase to the third floor, a steep walk that had me exhausted by the end. Usually, a walk like this was a breeze, but the amount of sleep I had gotten the night before made this extremely hard.
By the time I was upstairs, I was prepared to fall right into my bed. But I knew better than that. The parcel was still a heavy weight in my bag, and I had to get it to the drop off point before whoever sent me the letter assumed I got compromised. Enough years in this business taught me that it’s better to be quick and tired than late and well-rested. So once I unlocked my door, I only took a second to survey the area before dumping my belongings onto my bed.
My current outfit, a simple shirt and pants combo, was enough to let me pass by unnoticed. I debated changing into something more comfortable, but the logical part of me knew it was better to look unnoticeable than like the children on the train ride.