She looked across the table, her gray-green eyes wide and steady under the overhead bulb.

“You can call me a fraud,” she said, “but you can’t undo that notch above your eye.”

I stared down at the little color print, my thumb still pressed to the left corner of my forehead.

The high chair in the background had three yellow duck stickers stuck across the tray.

I remembered those yellow ducks from the floor of my closet in our old house on Maple Street.

“Where did you get this album?” I asked.