Heavens! That's Sally's toy car. This is our tree, isn't it? We'd sneak out at night to smoke here. And she'd make up stories about how we'd be spies and zip around in our powder blue Austin Haley. Of course she'd look faboulus in a white leather catsuit, and I'd be the one in a suit with a bowler hat and an umbrella. At least it was a sword umbrella, in her stories.

Once we took one of those magic mushrooms, and Sally wouldn't stop crying, but she for once let me comfort her, and all these memories came up for me about Mum and how nice things were before the War. I wonder, if I eat some here, some night, would it jar some of the old memories loose, some of the good ones?

I wish I could remember more.


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