Starman
“Every inch of him screamed Scott. He was a perfect duplicate of the man in the photo album—no, he was the man in the photo album, down to the smallest mole and almost healed childhood scars. Same color eyes, same hue of hair, same damaged right fingernail that he’d smashed in a construction accident.
The only thing different was the look in his eyes. They seemed to go on and on into his head, transparent lenses of infinite depth and perception. She stared into them and found herself growing dizzy.
It was all too much to try and handle. Jenny was a strong, self-possessed woman (God knows how she’d had to be strong these past many weeks), but the man standing there before her, coupled with what she imagined she’d seen happening on the floor of her cabin moments earlier, completely overwhelmed her. She staggered sideways and crumpled to the floor. The gun fell from limp fingers. She was no longer afraid because she had passed beyond fear.
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