A plumber discovered a black-framed photo of himself on the wall of a remote house where he was going to fix a dripping faucet.
Alex, a very good plumber, answered an emergency call that day. An elderly man had called to complain about a leaking bathroom faucet at the country property. He gave the address, a house in an upscale neighborhood thirty kilometers from the metropolis. Nothing unusual, just a routine task.
The house’s obvious evidence of long-term neglect, such as weeds, peeling plaster, and an old mailbox with a rusty door, shocked Alex when he first visited. But when he rang the bell, an elderly woman answered. She seemed confused, even tense.
The faucet can be found upstairs on the second story. Please come in.
Alex climbed the rickety steps and entered a spacious hallway with pictures on the walls. Then he halted—and he became chilly.
Among the several antique pictures on the wall, he recognized his face. Or rather, a face that remarkably resembled him. A black and white snapshot in a black mourning frame.
Gazing at the image, Alex noticed that the eyes, nose shape, jawline, and facial expression were all the same. He walked almost automatically to the restroom, his hands shaking. After the fix, he dared to inquire.
I apologize, but this is a stupid question. Who is the person in the photo on the staircase? He looks very much like me.
The woman froze for a second, then paled at what she saw.
That was my brother. Valentin. He was died in a car accident fifteen years ago. She took a moment to think. It’s funny because you do look alike. Additionally, the voices are fairly similar.
Alex nodded, feeling something stab him in the chest.
Did you know for sure that he was your biological brother?
The woman frowned.
Yes. But our father always said that because the paperwork was a little hazy, the sibling had been wrongfully taken out of the hospital. Everything was settled later, but sometimes he took it seriously, and other times he made fun of it. We never knew if that was real or not.
