The Receipt Court accepted my offer with the enthusiasm of a creditor finding a rich corpse.
Every black metal strip in the chamber detached from its chain.
Hundreds of receipts floated into the air and turned their sharp little edges toward me.
"Cedric!" Aiden shouted.
"My name is apparently popular today," I said.
The first receipt sliced across my shoulder before I finished speaking.
It did not cut cloth.
It cut memory.
For a moment I forgot the shape of my mother's kitchen.
Not her face. Not her voice. Something smaller. The cheap table with one uneven leg. The plastic fruit bowl Hana hated because the oranges always tasted like refrigerator air. A stupid detail. A useless detail.
Gone.
I knew it had existed because the missing space hurt.
[MEMORY ANCHOR DAMAGE: MINOR.]
[CATEGORY: DOMESTIC DETAIL.]
[RECOVERABLE: UNKNOWN.]
Minor.
I was starting to resent that word.
Seraphina's barrier flared around the group. "Move behind me!"
