Forth didn't argue. He pointed, with a stubby finger. "Look—" he moved the finger as he spoke, "height of forehead. Set of cheekbones. Your eyebrows look different, and your mouth, because the expression is different. But bony structure—the nose, the chin—"
I heard myself make a queer sound; dashed the mirror to the floor. He grabbed my forearm. "Steady, man!"
I found a scrap of my voice. It didn't sound like Allison's. "Then I'm—Jay2? Jay Allison with amnesia?"
"Not exactly." Forth mopped his forehead with an immaculate sleeve and it came away damp with sweat, "No—not Jay Allison as I know him!" He drew a long breath. "And sit down. Whoever you are, sit down!"
I sat. Gingerly. Not sure.
"But the man Jay might have been, given a different temperamental bias. I'd say—the man Jay Alliso
