Page 120 of Mayhem and Minnie

The same mole is above her upper lip.

Her eyes are wide and bright, her expression that of a woman in love.

She’s stunning. The simplicity of her outfit highlights her natural beauty.

My cursor hovers over the X button, but I suddenly stop when I notice something else.

There’s another black dot on her cheek and one on her forehead, right below her hairline.

I frown.

Turning to my other monitor, I pull up a video of Minnie and wait until I find a frame that shows her right cheek.

“The fuck…”

There it is. The same mole on her cheek. And to make it even more absurd, Minnie also has a mole on her forehead, right below her hairline.

I stare in disbelief at the two women. I cannot wrap my mind around how they’re so identical. Even if they’re related, I doubt they’d have the same moles in the same positions.

That dilemma prompts a search into the genetics of moles, and while some are genetically inherited from parent to offspring, there’s still not enough information to say for sure whether mole placement is inherited too.

But I’m still not convinced.

How is it that the only records of Minnie on the internet are those police records that list her as a Jane Doe and the two pictures featuring someone who looks exactly like her but who lived almost one hundred years ago?

There’s also her name. Minerva, Minnie, Mina…

It’s all too close for my peace of mind.

Add to that the odd things happening all around Minnie. Men seem to fall into a trance the moment they see her, almost as if they were bewitched. Technology glitches around her, and it always happens at very opportune moments. I still haven’t forgotten the time she supposedly cleaned the entire bathroom in a matter of minutes. I may have relegated it to the back of my mind, but it’s been bothering me ever since.

Then there’s also perhaps the most glaring detail. Her ability to withstand the cold. Whereas a normal person would get frostbite from being exposed to the cold in nothing but a shirt, she was perfectly fine—warm to the touch even.

That is…not normal.

A knock interrupts my thoughts.

I barely look up as the door opens and Minnie steps inside.

She’s wearing the outfit I bought for her. As expected, the dress fits her like a glove. Her lips tremble as she smiles at me.

“Thank you for the dress. I love it,” she murmurs.

I grunt. “It looks good on you.”

She stands awkwardly at the entrance of my office, balancing from one foot to the other. The shoes, too, fit her, the heels making her legs look longer.

I berate myself for noticing every single thing about her when I should be concentrating on her deception.

“Shouldn’t we…go?” she asks after a lengthy pause in which we just stare at each other.

“There’s still time,” I reply, glancing at my watch. “I’m working,” I mention.

“Oh. Do you want me to go? I can come back later.”

“Not at all,” I add, forcing a smile. “Please, take a seat.” I motion to the sofa by the wall.

She nods and reluctantly advances into the room, taking a seat on the sofa. She places her red bag in her lap, holding it with both hands as if it were something precious.

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