My Boyfriend Is My Doom

na's

om it. I stood on the other side of the desk with my hands at

e," Lucian explained. "I gathered them

the fir

of a small school near the harbor. A name had been scratched out in the third row, and the pen

evealed. "Somebody replaced it, a

the new name was a different shade from the rest of the row, su

t usually chan

somebody rewri

world apart, yet the registry sat between us as evidence that something had happene

r. The boy had thick black hair and grey eyes, and he held a brown dog in his arms. The

eleven," Lucian said. "T

dog. I knew the red door, the white ear, and the name. I had

e name

my face. "Why are you

nted him. I invented him l

eem angry. Instead, he turned the picture slightly, examining

what yo

was soft from years of use, and the corners had curled. I turned to a page near the middle

has a brown dog with one white ear, and the dog follows him everywhere.

r my shoulder without speaking. I could feel the warmth of him through

m," he admitted at last. "She painted it

wrote t

is exact. Even t

ers were careful, and they did not shake. The next page he

ff of our town," Lucian explained. "The

n I was thirteen. The lamp wa

spoke for several seconds. The similarities were too spe

ck every detai

e had a scar on his left knee from a fall on the harbor stairs, and I had given that scar to my boy in the story. He hated the tast

ame small habits, the same physical marks, the same childhood memories appeared in both places. Every disco

vily in his chair and pressed his hands against his face. I stayed on my feet, gr

from your pages," he s

ur life before

as are im

are sitting

him, he seemed younger than twenty. The photograph remained beside his elb

g," he muttered. "I did not know how he

now what to

anything. You only hav

ticked toward one o'clock, filling the silence between us. So

teps faded. His attention remained fixed on the doo

. "Nikos does not like it when

hat you have be

ws some

e stack had caught my eye. A corner of cream paper stuck out from

hand. It was an envelope with no name on

it. The color drained from his face, and

seen that en

in your

" he insisted. "I sti

someone had placed the envelope among his records without his knowled

in and creased, and the ink had faded to a soft bro

irst line, t

e I trusted what I was seeing. The slant of the letters was wrong in only one place. The t

times in my life. I had never fo

does it say?

nable to speak. He took it an

cords will show them the same wound. Then the one who forgot will remember,

ent comple

eyes came up to meet mine. I saw the q

u write

remember w

your hand

etter of it b

r of polished tin under the noon sun, shining so brightly that it hur

ter look that way in al

buzzed

ching the strap against the edge of the chair. I pulle

ved from a number

e only se

s house tonigh