When I was 5, my mom lost me in a park. I don’t remember much, except that one minute, I was riding the carousel and the next… she was gone. I don’t remember how I found her. I don’t remember how I got home. All I remember is what happened next. She told me not to worry. She told me everything would be fine. She told me it was time to play the quiet game, so I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask any questions… or else, I might have told her… I forgot my doll. I loved that doll so much. It killed me to leave it behind. Funny, isn’t it, the way memory works… the things you can’t quite remember and the things you can never forget?