A long shadow falls across the picture in her hand.  Startled, she looks up to see her stepfather staring down at her.  “Hey punkin’,” he calls out, bending down to give her a hug.  “Whaddya doin’ on the floor?”. 

     “I found this old box on the top shelf in the closet,” explains Felicia, pointing at the leather box on the floor.  “It’s full of pictures, but I don’t know whose they are.” 
His face freezes when he sees the box and his eyes turn colder than she has ever seen them.  The silence stretches on. 

     “They’re almost all of this red-haired girl - I think her name is Megan,” she says, watching him.  “That’s what it says on the back of one of the pictures.” 

     Still, he doesn’t speak.  He sits down next to Felicia and pulls her onto his lap, stroking her shoulder with one hand, and leafing slowly through the pictures with the other. 
With one deliberate motion, he sweeps up all the pictures and stacks them neatly back into the box.  “Do you know who she is?” Felicia asks, staring up at him. 

     “She’s nobody.” 

     Felicia catches only one final glimpse of the shining red hair before he closes the lid.