“Mom?”

I tried it out to see how it would work. It felt rough on my tongue, like sandpaper. The word  mom can only be matched with one image, my real mom. Brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Not the image of Mrs. Thomson. Platinum blonde hair, green eyes, and cream skin.

“Noah?”

I snapped to attention, my arm knocking my uneaten pasta to the floor where Bailey the bulldog ate it. I covered my face with my hands. This wouldn’t have happened if my parents hadn’t died. I sighed and thought, “Well, what a start to my new life.”