I walk toward the bathroom to splash water on my face, but as I pass a door, the strong smell of ammonia stops me. It opens into a room, empty except for a metal cage that sits near the window. The hinged wire door is open. The newspaper stuffed into the cage and the wooden floor around it is stained with what, given the sharp smell and the yellowing, is probably cat piss. Thick crusted layers of it, like something was kept locked up for a long time and not cleaned up after.
I hold my breath and lean closer. Caught in a wire joint are a few short white hairs. I back out of the room.
Barron’s losing his memories. So’s Maura, and maybe me too. I don’t remember the details of Lila’s murder. I don’t remember how I got onto the roof. I don’t remember what happened to my memory charm.
Let’s s
