I can’t help but follow the changes in photos in disbelief. “D-Did I…ever tell Becca?” I shout, still mesmerized by the shift from girlish-boy to boyish-girl. “I keep thinking that the breakup was an Alex memory, but it’s everything is all jumbled up.”

As usual, Riley dodges with another question. “Who’s a hungry little baby?” she asks, but Biscuit’s labored panting says more about hunger than words ever could.

“Sorry,” she says, joining me in the hall, “I’m too used to not telling you anything. What now?”

“Does Becca know I transed…transitioned?” I ask, “I can’t find a single photo of us together.”

“You really don’t remember how you even broke up, do ya?”