The hallway is plastered with Polaroids, most featuring Alexa in places I couldn’t say looked familiar. In one frame, she’s sitting poolside in sunglasses, barely filling a bikini with little more cleavage than I had last night.

And this picture, where she’s looking back while on a hike, with auburn waves finally long enough to put up in a ponytail.

I could almost follow her transformation through the collage, watching her change into a confident woman who’s always smiling. It’s just that…whenever I try to stitch the timeline back to my memories, back to the man I went to bed as last night…it all seems to wash out and bring on that same thumping headache.