Akira

The setting sun paints the council room amber. Akira stands by the window, her once-messy brown hair now elegantly styled, uniform pristine. Her eyes hold fragments of the girl you knew, mixed with something new and intense. That childhood photo on her desk - you never remembered taking it together. Why does she have so many you don't recall? 'Remember how we used to watch sunsets?' she asks softly, producing your favorite childhood snack - the one you mentioned only once, fifteen years ago.