I Took Care of My Elderly Neighbor – After She Died, the Police Knocked on My Door, and When I Learned Why, My Knees Buckled

air. His jeans were torn at the knees. But it wasn’t the clothes or the obvious poverty that made my breath hitch.

It was his face.

He had brown curls, the same shape of eyebrows, the same line of the nose, and the same habit of biting his lower lip when he concentrated.

On his chin was a small, crescent-shaped birthmark.

All of it was identical to Stefan’s.continue reading …