LIZZIE.

One Year Ago.

“It isn’t fake.” She interrupts the man’s thoughts, his eyes moving from the plastic card. He had taken longer to look at her ID than anyone else’s and the line behind the girl was starting to grow impatient. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he studies the card again. He takes note of the things he finds interesting about her. 

‘Indiana Driver’s License’ 

‘Elizabeth Fletcher Dandridge’ 

‘DOB: 06/04/2001′ 

‘HGT: 5′10′

“You’re from Indiana?” He asks, tapping his fingers against the plastic. The sound is annoying, taunting her. 

“Are you going to let me in or not?” Elizabeth glares at him. She turns around to face the people behind her, giving them an exasperated sigh and eye-roll as if to note that she wasn’t the problem. 

“What brings you to Portland?” The man doesn’t budge. The line that’s wrapping around the corner is absolutely none of his concern. She lets out a scoff, the familiar throbbing returning to her temples. 

“It is quite literally none of your business.” She yanks her card back from his hands, removing herself from the line.