Lysandra arranged to see Zephyr the next day. Her friend had left her a note that morning, detailing the times of the day during which she'd be free. Lysandra escaped the house just after lunch and met Zephyr at their usual spot, on a street somewhere in between their residences, near a clock that stood under the half-wire trees. She made it there on time.
"Zeph," she greeted her friend.
"Liss," Zephyr said. "What brings you here so early?"
Lysandra rolled her eyes. "Hush, you."
"Aww," Zephyr drawled. "Having a bad day?"
"I need to talk to you about something," Lysandra said, crossing her arms over her chest and facing her friend.
"Whoa," Zephyr said, her eyes widening. "That was a sudden change of subject."
"I'm serious," Lysandra pleaded.
Zephyr took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "What is it?"
"I think someone messed with my memories." Lysandra dropped her voice, so that Zephyr had to lean forward to hear it.