She crossed the foyer, where pictures lined the walls. More pictures, like the ones she’d found in the attic the night before. Her family’s pictures were disconnected from her own life. From the time they were children, her brother and sister had been recognized as two of the best-looking people in Laughton. They were both tall, had blond hair and bronze skin, lean faces above wide shoulders and thin hips. Amy’s own black hair framed a heart-shaped face, the kind people described as “pleasant.” She had broad hips and eyes that slanted faintly, as if an Asiatic presence shimmered in her genes. Her eyes were blue and her pale skin blushed easily. Her parents said she resembled one of her father’s aunts, a woman she’d never seen. The pictures in the hallway—her brother and sister and parents, most taken before she was born—always carried accusations, made her feel like a trespasser.
by mereobservant