"What the hell are you doing going through my stuff?" I try to sound angry but my voice came out breathless.
"Your phone fell from the top of the drawer down under your bed," he explains but his eyes were still focused on the clipping. "Vie, what is all this? This looks like you."
He placed the fragile paper down on my mattress and picked up another one of me in Montauk, this time I was blonde with blue contact lenses I wore everyday like a sacred sigil. I can feel the temperature of the room slowly rising by the minute as he sifts deeper into the box.
It didn't matter how hard he tried to look for something that would contradict his suspicions but all there was inside the box were a different story in a different state of a different person sharing the same face. My face.
Come to thi
