At first, Riley doesn’t seem to hear herself, but I can see a revelation creeping through her body. First, in the stroke of her dishrag slowing to a crawl, then moving across her still quivering lips until finally settling in gaze fixed in panicked position.

She’s realized that I’ve heard something I shouldn’t have…

The pictures of Alexa in the hall earlier…A tomboyish woman who looks a little less sad in each photo, and the college friend who just so happens to know us both. Alexa isn’t just some girl who looks like me.

She is me.