The Passenger

by Lisa Lutz

Until the day I met Blue I could have won a gold medal in keeping secrets. I had fought so hard to forget my past, forget who I once was, that as I said my story, it felt like fiction.

As I started to get up, Domenic grabbed my wrist in a vise grip. “Who are you? Who are you really?” “I don’t know anymore.”

“Five people were in that accident. Three survived. Two say you were driving.” “But I was the passenger,” I said.