[When Lydia appears, Allison...well, there's no other word: she feels it, a warm and pleasant prickle on the back of her neck that makes her head lift and a smile come to her face.
It's a nice feeling, and it makes her long for her missing memory.
She waits for Lydia to say hello, but she doesn't. She stands there, sketching...and the look on her face is a little disturbing.
Allison is so focused on her concern for Lydia, she doesn't even realize she's standing until she blinks and she's on her feet, halfway to where Lydia is standing. She hesitates for a moment, wondering if this is a clue...her brain is hamburger, but maybe there's some muscle memory.
Maybe her body remembers...
She stands still, shuts her eyes, and thinks about one of her ex-boyfriends in college. It's a happy little fantasy that ends with his roommate finding them just as Allison is about to come, and spoils an otherwise perfect evening.
When she opens her eyes again, she's beside Lydia, an arm around her shoulders, her free hand gently stroking her hair, silently trying to coax her back to reality. Looking down at the pad, she sees multiple sketches of the same box.
That old, gnarled tree, over and over again...
A cold knot settles in the pit of her stomach as she looks at Lydia's face again.]
Sweetie?...Lydia, c'mon. Talk to me--what are you doing?