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On one of those nights, AV projected the image of an old paper boat, afloat and intact, turning slowly in sunlight.

Ava thought about the things she had kept and the things she had let fall into the gutters of forgetting. "Do you think I should keep trying? To hold people close? Or... let go?" On one of those nights, AV projected the

"Tell me about the river," she said, finding the old comfort of stories slipping back into her hands. AV's voice softened and pictures unfolded: the riverbank at dawn, reeds trembling with light, a boy with a paper boat. Ava watched a younger version of herself push that boat out, watch it catch an invisible current and disappear around a bend. On one of those nights