The strong floral fragrance was sickening, suffocating, and threatened to snuff out any lingering remainder of fragile lilac—of the mother she’d loved so, so much.

They’d sat under the starlight and shared quiet conversation and had both read together during the day, happy amidst all of nature’s splendor. On the days the urge to run away grew too strong to bear, she remembered for dear life.

Less than a week in the Tri-State area brought the memories flooding back, as if he hadn’t locked them up in a box and punted them off of Mount Everest.

We’ll create some new memories,” Ally said. “Like setting their secret lairs on fire and roasting marshmallows over the wreckage.

On her darkest days, the memories of the splintered floorboards crept in, along with the drip, drip, drip of old plumbing that had never been fixed. She still remembered the shouts from the others in the crew and how the mingle of voices was at first familiar and over time had grown as distant as the sea.

Her lips against his, the sun soaking into their skin, and the sweet, fragrant breezes that wafted through this isolated picnic area was nothing short of perfection.

Since her time in the necromancer’s clutches, she was still recovering lost memories from the quicksand of her mind. They’d drop like nuclear bombs, freezing her at the worst time as visuals which should’ve stayed forever buried bubbled to the surface.

Better to leave with good memories than have the last ones be the embarrassing, smoking ruin of what once had been a fantastic friendship.