The appearance of those wicked purple flowers in her memory where they should not have been sends Viola's mind spinning. If that dark force can enter memories here, was it able to enter the memories locked away in cicada shells? Were those memories as false as 'Lionel Qualls' had been in the bowling alley basement? She's always known reality is a little false but this is more than she can wrap her mind around.

Viola blinks back to attention at Aris' change in tone. "Oh, I don't mind talking about it with you." She has to admit that she is a little curious. "Just spare me the details if I was too embarrassing," she smiles. She is imagining a memory filled with half-constructed song lyrics crumpled up and scattered around the blankets, swaddling her unwashed suntanned limbs. Day three of a t-shirt. Greasy roots or unkind words to her older sister. Throwing up on the beach after smoking too many cigarettes. Those types of embarrassments. She has no idea what's in store.