Penny didn’t realize how much time had passed until she heard a knock on the inside of her wardrobe door and snapped her head toward it. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the numbers on her nightstand clock. It was almost ten o’clock.
The knock came again, and when Penny didn’t hasten to answer, the door began to inch open.
Penny slid to the edge of her bed and threw the top sheet over the moving images in the mirror—she was on her fifth photograph now, having watched the previous four several times each before moving to the next.
Her feet hit the floor as Zoe’s face appeared through the partially open door, and she manufactured a yawn, as if she’d only just awakened.
Penny didn’t understand why she wanted to keep the photographs’ stories secret, if even just for now, but the de
