Mara did not go home that night.
She walked.
Through streets she knew by heart, past buildings she could navigate blindfolded. She needed motion. Continuity. Proof that the world still responded to her choices.
As she crossed an intersection, a memory surfaced.
Not a thought.
A sensation.
Small hands.Cold metal against her scalp.A voice saying, This will help people.
Mara stopped in the middle of the crosswalk.
A horn blared. Someone shouted. She didn't hear them.
The memory wasn't complete. It unraveled the moment she focused on it, dissolving into the familiar nothingness of the gap.
But this time—
It left something behind.
A feeling.
Betrayal.
Mara stumbled onto the sidewalk, heart racing.
My memories didn't disappear, she realized.They were overwritten.
That was why they felt shallow. That was why she could experience Echoes without losing herself. That was why she could see gaps others couldn't.
Because she knew, on a level deeper than language, what removal felt like.
Her celebrated precision wasn't skill.
It was survival.