"Am I doing a good job being cute?" Alex asked.
I almost choked.
I put the skewer down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked at her.
She had her chin propped on her fist, the smug face fully operational, eyebrows slightly raised in the specific way of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
"What are you talking about," I said.
"I know you like cute things." She tilted her head. "I have your memories. REEEEMEEEMBEEEER?" Drawn out, theatrical, accompanied by a little wave of her fingers.
I looked away. "I'm not answering that."
She leaned closer and poked my cheek. "Hihi. Aren't I the one who's supposed to be acting cute? Why are you doing it instead?"
I frowned.
"Sorry." She pulled back immediately. "That was, sorry."
I looked at her.
The apology had arrived fast and genuine, the smug thing gone.
I thought about…
Me in the memories she'd copied— all of it, the whole picture—
