That night, Taylor didn’t put the photograph away. She kept it on the small, metal desk, propped against the wall where she could see it without having to hold it.
She told herself it was to get used to it. For her to be able to separate the two and prove to herself that what she was feeling was just shock. Just memory colliding with coincidence. That it would pass.
Taylor sat on the edge of her bunk, staring at it. Minutes stretched, then longer. The face didn’t change or soften or become someone else. If anything, the familiarity settled deeper the longer she looked.
Small details began to stand out. Differences, maybe. Slight ones. The way his smile didn’t quite carry the same edge. The looseness in his posture. The lack of tension in his eyes. But those details weren’t enough. Not n
