“That is because everyone looked better in black and white,” she replied, waving me off.
We kept turning pages. There were school dances, classroom pictures, girls in pleated skirts, boys in pressed shirts, handwritten notes in the margins, and little hearts around names I did not recognize.
And then I froze.
In her high school album, I saw a black-and-white, slightly faded photo, but the face in it looked terrifyingly familiar.
It was him.
My boyfriend.
Tyler.
For a second, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. I leaned closer, telling myself it was just a resemblance. People looked alike sometimes. Old photos could play tricks. Shadows could sharpen a jaw or blur a nose.
But the longer I stared, the worse it became.
The same eyes. The same smile. The same features, an exact copy.
