In the morning, Lasi called out sick.
The words sounded strange to her when she said them over the phone, like they belonged to someone else. There was no reason for it—no good reason, anyway. She wasn't sick. She wasn't even tired. She just didn't want to go in.
She lay in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, the phone still in her hand.
A faint pulse of memory stirred just beneath the surface—an image of the chapel room, a pressure like gravity without sound, the thick, almost metallic scent of roses that clung like vapor. It lingered like incense in the corners of her mind.
Eventually she got up and took a long shower, letting the hot water run over her face and shoulders until the bathroom mirror was completely fogged. She dressed slowly, ate breakfast without tasting it, and then walked.
She didn't know where she was going. She just walked.
The city was colder than usual. The wind pushed at her face and made her eyes water. She passed shops and cafes and office towers, places she saw every day without ever really noticing them. People rushed past her, caught in their own mornings, their own errands.
Everything felt slightly out of sync, like she was watching a movie filmed at the wrong frame rate.
Her phone buzzed. It was messages from Scarlet:
——
Claria🔫💪2Bonnie:"Hey loser. I better see your face at afternoon sessions. 2 more days and we're on break. ——
—-
Claria🔫💪2Bonnie: 3 whole weeks of nothing but freedom and chaos and you helping me pack. ——
—-
Claria🔫💪2Bonnie: And no, I'm not packing your stuff again last-minute like last time. ROAD TRIP. Be ready. <3"——
—-
Lasi didn't reply. But she stared at the messages longer than she meant to.
She shook her head and chuckled, thinking about how they met.
——
Memory Fragment
Third Day of School, Age 4
Lasi didn't cry like the other kids.
She'd been squatting under a hedgerow near the schoolyard fence with torn graph paper, a string of yarn, and a broken crayon. She was sketching a tactical escape route—complete with crawlspace paths and warning zones marked "cries too much," and "definitely snitch."
Scarlet noticed her from across the play terrace. While the other kids were practically molting from stress, this one just crouched in the dirt like she was plotting a revolution.
Scarlet wasn't crying either.
That seemed important.
So she wandered over, crouched next to her. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Escape schematic," Lasi muttered.
Scarlet nodded as if this were obvious. "Nice. I was just calling them babies in my head."
Lasi side-eyed her. "…That's fair."
By mid-morning, they were flipping through a book on poisonous frogs together at their classroom desk.
Then came Davin.
Five years old. Stickers on his knees. A face full of smug.
"Hey, shrimp," he grinned at Scarlet. "You look like a bug someone stepped on."
Then he grabbed a chunk of her curls and yanked it out.
Scarlet froze. Lasi did not.
"YOU DARE!" she shouted, already moving.
She stood on her chair and punched him square in the nose.
"YOU—HOW DARE YOU PULL MY HAIR OUT, YOU CRYBABY BOOGER-EATING WIMP!" Scarlet shrieked, pointing at him in outrage before launching at high speed.
She hit like a missile, bit his forearm, and yanked his hair with both fists.
"HOW DO YOU LIKE IT NOW, BRAINWEED?!"
Davin screamed. He toppled backward. Lasi didn't wait—she hovered over and kicked him twice, backing up just long enough for Scarlet to get her hits in. Ready to jump in again if needed.
Then came the Nanny-Z siren blaring. A small shock panel extended from its midsection.
"CONFLICT DETECTED. RESTRAINT MODE: ACTIVE."
It glued their hands together with punishment paste and dragged them to the Dean's hallway.
They sat on the timeout bench, stuck together, legs swinging in silence.
Then Scarlet whispered,
"We're best friends now, right?"
Lasi nodded.
"Partners in crime?"
"Bonnie and Clyde."
Scarlet tilted her head. "I'm not a boy."
"True."
She grinned. "Let's make it Bonnie and Claria. Sounds cuter."
Lasi blinked. "Claria?"
"Yeah. A girl outlaw's name. You can be Bonnie, I'll be Claria."
"…Okay."
They giggled behind their gluey hands while the Dean called their parents. From that moment on, they were Bonnie and Claria. Chaos-bound. Lifelong partners in crime.
And Lasi had her first anchor in the world.
——
At a certain point, Lasi realized she was walking in the direction of the museum. And then she realized she was already there.
The building was long and low, made of pale stone and glass, crouched in a quiet corner of the city like something waiting.
The wind curled around its edges, flapping the corners of a banner stretched across the front. She stepped inside.
It was warm in the lobby. Quiet, too. A handful of people milled around the admissions desk, murmuring to each other. She paid for a ticket and walked through the gates.
She wasn't here for an exhibit. She wasn't here for anything concrete. She just wanted to see something that had lasted.
She wandered the museum halls, eyes skimming over artifacts: ancient pottery, chipped tools, faded tapestries.
And yet, the longer she walked, the more she felt… watched.
There were soft footfalls behind her. Breathing. A whisper—low, affectionate, like someone murmuring to a lover.
She turned. No one.
Again: breath on her neck. A voice. Laughter—light, familiar.
The exhibits blurred. Something shimmered in the air, a
scent like ash and flowers. Her five senses flooded with déjà vu: the textures of stone, the chill of a forgotten room, the beat of a heart that wasn't hers.
She stopped in front of a case displaying a cracked seal.
Oval-shaped, rimmed with notches.
It looked like something that closed.
A voice whispered just behind her ear, "Do you remember it now?"
Lasi spun around. Empty.