The Substitution

You pull Daniel from the building at 9:43 AM. He buys you coffee at a diner on Wabash, alive, laughing nervously about close calls.

The next morning's edition lists him anyway. A body — his height, his coat, his face — is found broken at the base of the stairwell. Police call his mother. She identifies him.

Daniel stares at his own obituary across the table. Then who am I now? he whispers. You have no answer. Outside, the city moves on, and somewhere a pneumatic tube exhales another page with a name you almost recognize.