Ethan
The answer was inside that damn box. I knew it the moment I saw it among the flowers, the gifts, the wine bottles, the greeting cards. That box seemed out of place, old, worn… Like a strange piece in the middle of something beautiful.
I opened the lid, and as soon as I saw the first clipping, I understood why Clara had avoided me all day.
"s**t…"
The word escaped my lips.
I grabbed several documents, quickly skimmed them: photographs, magazines, events, headlines.
Carefully selected moments, and I recognized exactly what I was seeing.
Because I had lived through each one of them, and the problem was that they were incomplete, cut, manipulated, shown from a single angle.
The worst possible angle, one where I looked like an i***t, and to be honest… In some of those moments, I
