The styrofoam coffee cup warmed her left hand.

Mason turned his head to look at the large digital clock on the wall.

His jawline had the exact square shape Claire had seen in her nightmares for thirteen years.

His dark hair curled in exactly the same way at the temples.

Mason mumbled something to the proctor.

He crossed his arms defensively.

The way he tilted his chin was a perfect mirror of the man who had walked out on her.

Claire let go of the rope.