Karyn crouched down so she was eye-level with him, her expression sharp. “Jon—listen to me. You’re not… you’re not a little girl. You’re my friend. We made a wish, remember? You’re supposed to be Jon.”
But the girl in front of her only pouted, her glittery boots flashing as she shifted her weight, hand to her small hips. “Mommy, stop joking around. I am me. And you promised you’d take me to school after this.”
Karyn’s chest tightened. “I’m not your mom, Jon. I’m… I’m Karyn.”
The girl giggled at that, like it was a silly game. “Silly Mommy, you always call yourself by your name, But you’re Mommy. You’ve always been Mommy.”
Karyn opened her mouth to argue again, but the words tangled in her throat. For a second, she thought she saw something flicker—an image of herself holding a toddler’s hand, braiding her hair before kindergarten. She shook her head violently.
“No. That’s not real. That’s… that’s not real.”
She could have sworn she saw the stone glow, was it....
But the little girl kept talking, her voice bright and sure. “Remember when you packed me cookies for lunch this morning? You put them in the pink box with the ponies on it, thank you so much Mommy!"
Karyn’s pulse quickened. She didn’t remember that… did she? Her mind reeled, struggling. Part of her wanted to argue, but another part could see the pink lunchbox in her hand, could smell the chocolate chip cookies she had baked.
“No…” she whispered, clutching her head. “That didn’t happen. Jon, you’re not—”
“I’m your daughter,” the little girl said simply, hugging her new Pinkie Pie shirt against her chest. Her tone wasn’t defiant—it was just matter-of-fact.
And with every word, Karyn felt more and more like she had been this girl’s mother all along. She remembered shopping trips, bedtime stories, even the weight of her daughter asleep in her lap. The memories layered over her real ones, clashing and twisting until she wasn’t sure which set had come first. But... Jon had just put on this body he wasn't... Really...
Another glow...
Karyn staggered back, whispering to herself, “I… I can’t… I’m not…” But her eyes kept drifting to the little girl, and every time she looked at her, the word daughter rang louder in her mind.
