If she were steadier, if she were prepared, then maybe she would expect this. She would be able to handle seeing his face, hearing his voice.

The only reason she knows it isn't Mike is because she's looked for him. She's searched and searched, and she hasn't found him, anywhere, and here's his face, staring at her behind large glasses, with wrong hair, and wrong clothes. He looks like Mike. He sounds like Mike. But he isn't Mike.

He's wrong.

"No," she says, frowning, perhaps a little more tersely than is really warranted.