Local Woman Missing

by Mary Kubica

As I was sleeping in my bed, all I could think about was where they were sleeping, if they were sleeping. I thought about Shelby sleeping forever. I imagined what she must have gone through in the moments before she died.

When I come back to center, Josh stops me from spinning. He presses his hands around the small of my back, steadying me. He pulls me against him until we’re flush. He gazes down at me, giving me bedroom eyes. Butterflies dance in my stomach.

This is what the cops came up with at the police station: there’s something called false memories. They feel real like real memories, but they’re not. People’s minds can deceive them, or they can be tricked into remembering things that never happened in the first place. Memory can be manipulated. Ideas can be implanted inside a person’s head. That’s what they think happened to you.