A young family was moving in. A dark-haired woman directed the movers while holding a clipboard. A little girl, no older than eighteen months, toddled near the steps with a pink stuffed rabbit clutched in her fist.
A man lifted the end of a couch and maneuvered it through the doorway with practiced ease.
A young family was moving in.
For a brief moment, something twisted in my chest.
That could have been Ron and me.
Then the man glanced up toward my window, and my entire body went cold.
He had Ron’s signature haircut, Ron’s eyes, and mouth; he could have been a slightly aged version of my husband.
The resemblance was so exact that it didn’t feel like coincidence.
It felt like a cruel echo.
Something twisted in my chest.
I stepped back from the window and knocked a glass onto the floor.
“That’s impossible, Katie. Get it together,” I whispered.
Footsteps echoed up the stairwell, slow and heavy. I stepped into the hallway before I could talk myself out of it.
The man reached the top step carrying the little girl on his hip. Her cheeks were flushed. He stopped in front of the apartment next to mine and shifted her weight while pulling keys from his pocket.
“That’s impossible, Katie.”
My pulse started pounding in my throat.
I should have gone back inside.
Instead, I heard myself say, “Excuse me.”
“Yeah?” He glanced over politely, distracted.
Up close, it was no longer a resemblance; it was him, or someone really close to him.
“Excuse me.”
My mouth went dry. “This is going to sound strange,” I said carefully, “but do you know anyone named Ron? A relative? Cousin?”
His entire body went still.
“No,” he said quickly.
He adjusted the little girl against his chest. “Katie, let’s go inside, baby.”
“A relative? Cousin?”
The name hit me like a slap.
“Katie?” I repeated before I could stop myself. “Katie?”
“It’s just her name,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“And it’s my name, too,” I said, swallowing hard.
For a second, something flickered across his face.
The name hit me like a slap.
I stepped closer.
