The Scifen didn't only steal memories. It flattened everything else too — my emotions, my reactions, the sharp edges that made me feel like myself. One moment I'd be fine, and the next I'd find myself standing on the balcony railing with no memory of walking there. Lewis cleared his schedule and stayed home, and slowly, the worst of it leveled out. I stopped doing things I couldn't explain.
I started keeping a journal. Every moment with Lewis, written down in my own hand — so that even if the poison reached far enough to take him from my mind, I'd still have the pages. It helped, knowing that.
Most days I played my ocarina or crocheted, letting my hands stay busy while my thoughts settled. Six and a half months left until the pups arrived. I could hold on that long. So I made things — small toys, a flower blanket, and with gray yarn, a scarf and sweater for Lewis. Winter in Snowville dragged on, and I wanted to give him something made by my hands.
