They're all of him - Jackson as a child, his eyes already holding that otherworldly awareness that sets him apart.
Jackson, as a teenager, was tall and awkward in a way she never imagined he could be. Jackson as a young man, his features settling into the cold mask she knows so well.
But in every single picture, he's alone.
No parents, no siblings, no friends. Just him, his expression growing progressively more closed off with each passing year.
The images paint a picture of isolation that makes something in Maya's chest ache, despite everything.
She remembers the way he'd looked at their children that day during breakfast - with a mixture of mild confusion and barely any bewilderment in his eyes as if he couldn't quite believe they were real, as if he was stunned by their existen
