The rest of that day had been a blur. At some point her and Agatha had begrudgingly removed themselves from the floor to top off their bellies with new blood.

  Petra had anxiously awaited a call form the police, but it never arrived. Her phone remained silent aside from a few stray texts from a number her provider had marked as a scam. The guilt of murder lingered in Petra’s head but it’s urgency started to fade. Surely if something were to come of it she would know by now.

  Petra didn’t pay any attention to the bag she drank from. Nor did she use the straw from that morning. She dug her fangs straight through the pstic and drank crudely from the bag.

  The shimmer of dawn had long since faded into the colorful tapestry of dusk; pinks, oranges, and reds danced across the sky, soft, like streaks of paint.

  Having had no sudden breakthrough on her amnesia Petra resigned herself to her phone. Surely this “Lucas” would have kept some kind of information on their phone. Whether or not it was something that Petra wanted to use or not was a different story. But unfortunately for her, his memories were also hers in a way and she wanted them back.

  As it turned out, Lucas had nearly nothing to offer her. Almost none of the numbers had any contact information associated with them, and Petra was not eager to start asking who each person was.

  The few contacts that actually did have a name were technically more of titles than anything; her parents had info, simply mom and dad. And there was also the potentially ominously named “boss”. Petra assumed that it was her boss for whatever job she had. If the chain of texts attached were to be believed apparently she was an architect, or worked for an architect. She had a feeling that distinction was important.

  The various chains of messages that Petra sorted through offered no gnosis. The words sounded like things she might have said, but any context and reasoning was forever lost. It was draining. Beyond texts her phone held nothing, no social media, no streaming apps, photos, games, nothing.

  Petra felt lost. Her life was gone. Was it even her life? No it was his, Lucas was the one who bought the phone, he was the one who kept no records of his interests and life. From the little information Petra has been able to gather about herself, she is new. A fresh life inserted into the body of a nobody.

  She could start fresh— more or less anyways. Petra didn’t need to confine herself to whatever he was. If she did that she wouldn’t be living, and neither would he.

  Her body was already different from how it was. It was changing, rapidly drifting away from the vessel that housed Lucas. It would be hers soon in both mind and flesh.

  If Petra, she, is capable of being whoever she wants, capable of carrying out her wildest dreams, who is she to become?

  Money was of course the most pressing concern. To do pretty much anything one needed money, and Petra was fairly certain Lucas was not lining their pockets with millions of dolrs. Lucas had seemingly worked in architecture, and that did sound vaguely appealing to Petra. She could feel the concepts of the boy’s memories and skills prod at her mind; construction documents, design youts, and material samples. It was interesting work, but was it her work?

  If Petra returned to Lucas’ office on Monday, how would they react to her? Petra is not Lucas. If he had any friends, they wouldn’t be her friends, would they? Petra would know nothing about them. Further, Petra knew nothing of whatever project Lucas worked on. Sure she might be able to recall abstractions of those memories but it was painful and Petra wanted to stay within her own mind. At the same time, Petra was certain she would be able to continue the work in some capacity.

  But if she didn’t show up then what? Nobody was excepting Lucas to not show up. Could Petra call in sick, and then slowly leave his pce of work? Sure it would be incredibly rude of her to do that but could you bme her?

  The bag she had slowly been nursing began folding in on itself. Petra let out a heavy sigh.

  “What the hell do I do?” Petra aimlessly watched the ceiling fan spin. Around and around and around.

  Agatha, who had moved herself into the living room to be able to keep an eye on Petra looked up from her book.

  “What do you want to do?” Agatha asked.

  “That’s not a helpful question Agatha,” Petra whined and let her head fall into her hands.

  “Well I can’t solve whatever is going on in that head of yours,”

  “Why is that something I even need to do! Why can’t I just be me?” Petra rubbed her eyes. “That’s all I want, why’d he have to go and make it so complicated, with his sad excuse for a life.”

  “You know we only met because of his ‘sad excuse for a life’,”

  “So he did maybe one good thing that possibly led to my existence,” Petra said. “Still not helpful.”

  “Look Petra, I can’t know what you want,”

  “Well apparently neither do I, that’s the problem!” Petra kicked at the nearby coffee table, “Ow…”

  “You know me, or knew me, or… you know what I mean,” Petra rambled. “What did I like or what kinds of things did I do? Maybe that’ll help?”

  “I don’t know It’s barely been a week, and we’ve talked about jack shit,” Agatha said.

  “It’s only been a week? Are you kidding? So you know just as much as I do,” Petra threw her hands up. “Fantastic. Part of me kind of assumed we might have been romantically engaged or something given we slept together.”

  Agatha blushed, “No, sadly,” Agatha quickly cut herself off, Petra didn’t seem to notice. “Nothing of the sort.”

  Petra leaned until she flopped herself down against the wood floors. They creaked slightly as she shifted her weight across the pnks.

  “What if I just move?” Petra said. “To the woods. Yea, I’ll move to the woods. That could be fun right? Wouldn’t need to have my life figured out, would just need to survive.”

  “Petra please don’t move to the woods,” Agatha marked the page of her book and pced it beside her.

  “Why not? I’m some sort of supernatural entity, surviving in the wilderness shouldn’t be too hard. Find some poor mammal drink it and then call it a day. Rinse and repeat for the next… well, forever,” Petra sat up, a frustrated smile pstered on her face.

  Agatha let out a sigh. “Ok lets say hypothetically you go live in the woods. What if you get found? People might think you’re crazy. A human looking creature living in the woods leaving only shriveled mammal corpses? Not a good look.”

  “Great, I’ll be one of those… what are they called… cryptids!” Petra snapped her finger. “That sounds awesome.”

  “Ok. What if you get lonely? We may technically not be human any more, but we still have human thoughts and processes. We need companions of some sort.”

  “You could join me,” Petra said. “Easy, next question.”

  “I most certainly will not. I've dealt with on and off isotion my whole life. I have no interest in seeking it out willingly,” Agatha frowned.

  “You said you would help me and thus far you have been anything but. Agatha please, I’m not asking for much just something. You are currently my only tether to this world right now and I just need you to pull me somewhere,” Petra drummed her fingers across the wooden table top.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. Hmm, when we met, you said you were originally from Bridgeport, I assume that means you parents might still live there, maybe you could visit them?”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. What would I even tell them, I hardly remember them. I know they existed, I know we did things together, but the specifics are all bnk,” Petra pulled her knees into her chest. “I might as well not even be their child.”

  “That seems a little harsh doesn’t it?” Agatha said.

  “Perhaps,” Petra spun her phone through her fingers.

  Petra was conflicted, on one hand it could be nice to see someone vaguely familiar, but that was it just familiar. It was sad really. She found herself in an extremely delicate situation, and Petra felt like a toddler, creatures notorious for their ck of delicacy.

  She tried to focus again on who she was, any fragment of aspiration or joy. Instead Petra was met with a burning headache. A reminder she wasn’t real, only a mirage of person, and technically she wasn’t even a person.

  “I need to talk about something else, something less… heavy,” Petra shook her head slightly.

  “Would you like a book? Reading always helps me when I’m feeling lost.” Agatha held up her book and sort of used it to point at the grieving girl.

  “Maybe? I think I like reading. Although could be one of those things that sounds good in theory but turns out quite boring,” Petra said.

  Agatha pushed herself onto her feet and paced her way into her bedroom. Petra alone with her thoughts again became lost in her own world. She thought back to this morning, she was going to take a walk wasn’t she? Before her simple life crashed around her Petra had decided to do something.

  That walk never happened. It should.

  When Agatha came back she had several books piled in her hands.

  “I know this seems like a lot but it’s only a little bit of everything. I don’t intend for you to sit here and read through all of them, unless you want to,” Agatha seemed a lot more eager for Petra to read than Petra herself.

  Agatha carefully pced the books down on the table and sat down, crossing her legs at the same time. While Agatha was sitting down, Petra stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Agatha asked.

  “Lets go for a walk,” Petra said.

  “But we were going to read,” Agatha glumly gestured to the stack of books.

  “Another time perhaps,” Petra said. “I feel very confident about this walk.”

  “Really? You don’t strike me as a walking girl,” Agatha said.

  “Well I am, I think, probably,” Petra paused, then excitedly pointed to the door. “Anyway. Walk!”

  Agatha groaned and stood up. The two navigated around each other for a moment collecting their phones and keys and wallets.

  Petra was the first out the door, eager like a dog.

  “So are we walking to any pce in particur? or…” Agatha droned.

  “The ke?” Petra suggested.

  “That’s pretty far for just ‘a walk’,” Agatha closed the door as she stepped out.

  “Maybe, but it’ll be fun, hopefully,” Petra grinned.

  The two pushed their way down the stairs and onto the streets. The golden light that had bathed Chicago had all but faded into a fog of indigo. Petra could feel her eyes twitch slightly as they adjusted to the lower light. She blinked a few times and the world opened up for her, the corners and alleys of darkness now as clear as day.

  They walked East, past closed restaurants and store fronts towards Lincoln Park. Petra was certain she’d been there before but this would essentially be her first time there; not that they would be staying long, they would be cutting through to the closest beach.

  The night was cool with a warm breeze. It smelled like concrete and chemicals, with the occasional waft of ke sewage. A comforting smell to Petra, it was familiar, homely, she knew that smell. She liked this feeling of knowing and familiarity, it was the only sense of crity she’s had all day.

  Petra was walking slightly in front of Agatha; her stride was long and carefree. It was still early enough that the streets were still busy. It was a mild inconvenience that paused the girls otherwise uninterrupted stroll.

  They made occasional light conversation about the city as they crossed more and more streets.

  “So you moved here from somewhere else right?” Petra asked absent mindedly, she’d found a rock about a half block back and that was currently occupying most of her attention.

  “You remembered that?” Agatha was surprised.

  “Not really? It’s your accent it’s certainly not native. Though I can’t figure out where it is from,” Petra said, still kicking the rock along.

  “Oh, right,” Agatha sounded a little disappointed. “Irend.”

  “And you chose to move to Chicago of all pces, why?” Petra stared back at Agatha. “I mean I enjoy the city plenty but it’s not usually topping the charts for immigration.”

  “Well I didn’t want to move back to New York, too noisy,” Agatha said.

  “I thought you said you were from Irend?”

  “I am, but I hopped all around the States for a few decades,”

  “Oh,”

  “I really liked Massachusetts, but I stayed there too long and people started getting suspicious,” Agatha froze for a moment lost in her thoughts. “Yea, I think Conway was probably my favorite pce I’ve lives so far, beautiful forests. Chicago is definitely a close second.”

  “You’re really well traveled, I don’t think I’ve really ever left Chicago,” Petra said wistfully.

  The cityscape around them slowly began to disperse as trees became more plentiful. The air around the park felt even cooler. It also smelled cleaner. The proximity with the ke as well as the abundant foliage made quick work of any foul odors that tried to y cim to the area.

  It was also unsurprisingly dead, since technically the park was supposed to be closed. Petra felt a little nervous sneaking through the pathways, but breaking into a park was far from the most illegal thing she’d done that week. And odds were someone else would show themselves into the park that night.

  As the great ke rapidly approached, Petra was struck with the sudden disappointment of not having brought a swim suit. It was the perfect time of the year, the water had a few months of Sun and was more than warm enough for a rexing soak.

  The ever present light pollution of the city was faintly warded on the beach. The park provided a small barrier to which the fluorescents and LEDs could not penetrate. The sky was free and happy, hundreds of stars peaked out from behind the few, wispy clouds.

  It was a glorious sight. It felt even more vivid then anything Petra had ever seen the sky produce before. All the colors were more vivid and pure, and the glow of the stars had lost their fuzzy edges in favor of piercing precision.

  Petra walked down the sand and sat just above the tide. The water could barely tickle her shoes. Agatha followed after carefully removing her shoes. She sat beside Petra.

  “You having fun?” she asked.

  Petra nodded slightly, she wasn’t sure when it happened but since at least the entrance to the park Petra had been smiling.

  “Yea, I think so,”

  Pasta-Gal