He’s staring into the face of a woman he stole from, and I wish I could frame the terror in his eyes and put it on my wall. It’s like his bad dreams have finally come to life, a movie of his forgotten past replaying on a broken tape, as I glare through him with years of haunting pain. He already knows there is no way out of this by the way his Adam's apple bobs, disappearing into the rapid heartbeat beneath his chest. “Surprise…”
