Their mutual love swelled and swirled around them. Sami studied [him], envisioned him sitting before her as he did now but with his circa 1966 short hair and circa 1966 clothing. She knew him. Beyond any shadow of any doubt, she knew him. And as he’d said, she always had. “You made an oubliette before I left here, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I guess I made it too strong.” He hadn’t meant to completely erase her memories of her mother. And he hadn’t meant to completely erase her memories of him, either. He’d intended only to ease the pain of a three-year-old child. “I’m sorry the Clarks were such shitheads.”
She burst out laughing.
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