On the Run

I stood in front of the mirror and took a long look at myself. Victoria Ross was an attractive, conservatively dressed young woman, whose features matched the picture on the license which I had created with Adobe Photoshop. In fact, I had morphed a digital photo of myself with a picture of Jennifer Anniston to create the license, but the girl in the mirror now was all me. She slung her purse over her shoulder and practiced walking and moving like a girl, all the while talking to an imaginary bank officer in her newfound voice. “Hi, I’d like to open an account.” “Hi, I’d like to open an account.”

It was now or never. Without allowing myself to think about the consequences of failure, I bolted out of the motel room and started to walk towards the bus stop. My slip made me shorten my strides, and I concentrated on taking short steps and swinging my hips slightly as I tried to adapt to my new persona. Although it was close to ninety degrees, it was a dry heat, and my legs felt comfortable in my stockings as a desert breeze ruffled my dress. I reached into my purse as I waited for the bus and took out the exact change. A bus appeared, I stepped on board, and dropped the coins into the receptacle as the driver said, “Afternoon, Miss.”

I forced a smile and took a seat near the back of the bus, nervously avoiding the glances from the other passengers. I was reasonably sure that none of them had detected anything unusual in my appearance, and I picked up a discarded newspaper from the floor of the bus and pretended to read it as we headed towards downtown Phoenix.

The bank I had selected was in an upscale shopping and residential district close to the Arizona Biltmore. When the bus was a few blocks away, I pulled the cord and stepped off onto the hot sidewalk. I took my time as I got my bearings, trying to pull myself together while I walked slowly towards the bank. It was just before five o’clock when I entered the delightfully cool lobby and made my way to the elderly receptionist.