She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly hit by her memories. Or more accurately, her lack of memories. Could she really remember those birthday parties? There were vague impressions—the din of many children in a small space, cheap balloons, grocery store sheet cakes—but all melded together into one mass, the same block that held parties she’d seen in movies or constructed from glimpsed photographs. It was the same with homework. A blur of worksheets and lined paper, but no single assignment could be picked out no matter how hard she tried. Across from her Gabe looked amused by his friend’s sudden distraction and waved a playful hand, calling her back to the present. He asked again, “Why don’t they ever seem to know they’re clones?” but she had no answer that wasn’t too terrifying to put into words.
This was written for the 26th Fox Tales story contest, to write a one paragraph story prompted by the picture above, drawn by 
