Shaken, you scurry across the street, slowly dropping the phone to your side, careful not to close it. Entering the office supply store, you overhear an ongoing exchange between a policeman and a salesclerk.

“So you didn’t see the assailant’s face?” the officer asks.

“No, sir.”

“He was wearing a gray ski-mask?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what would you say was the total amount in the register?”

“A couple hundred bucks? – I don’t know. – But don’t forget the box of office supplies!”

“Office supplies? – You mean the box of envelopes?”

“Yes, the box of envelopes. – And don’t forget my cell phone was stolen too!”

“Right. – So was that one of those fancy Smartphones?”

“I wish it were, but no. It was an old-styled flip phone…”

Your mind now stirred in a flood of faded memories, you whisper to yourself, “They’ll think it’s me.” And slowly backing out the door you cross the street carefully concealing the old-styled flip phone in your hand.

“They’ll think it’s you,” states the nameless voice on the phone.