[ Of course she remembers that conversation. It was the first real one they'd shared after that first strange call, and they'd so quickly gotten to such a meaningful subject... Well, she'd understood him because of James, but his experiences had been solely his own. James and Jim, the same and yet not. It's so strange how one person can both break her heart and heal it with his very existence.

She can hear the smile in his voice as he recalls those memories from childhood, and she finds that she envies him that. When she shares her own story, she isn't quite sad, but the emotion is certainly mixed in with the love and fondness she still feels deeply for her family. ]

The style I usually wear... It was my mother's. I wanted to be just like her when I was little. Maybe that would have changed when I got older and teenage contrariness took over, but... [ That sadness becomes more obvious now, her voice tightening for just a moment. ] It's the only thing I have left of her. Of any of them.

Even my memories are... [ She struggles with how to describe the state of that part of her mind. ] They're fuzzy. That's the sort of thing trauma does to a person. But I remember watching my father undo her braids at the end of the day and brush out her hair, and they looked so happy despite how hard our life was.