Memory hands on Marshmallow Violets.
Permanent. Powerful. Forever.
“Jasmine, stop that!” Mr. Gossamer yelled as he raced across the front lawn. “Get away from my fence,” he said, shoving her.
“They are Forget-me-knots, Daddy,” Jasmine smirked. “Your daughter, remember.”
His eyes, livid.
Her eyes smiled as she extracted the pistol from her pocket.