"I think," she whispered, "we should write it down."

"Write what down?" he asked, looking up from his book.

"You know," she said, pointing to the doodles she had left on the margins of his notebook, which she was supposed to be studying from. "This. The things we remember."

His hands tightened on the edges of the book, crinkling the paper. For a moment, he thought about saying no. He looked at her, with the sun dancing through her hair. The autumn morning twirling into her auburn, trailing in thick waves down her back, sparkling with the reflection of the orange and yellow and red glow from the changing trees. She was beautiful, made of sunlight and smiles and clear autumn skies.

He remembered her by a different light, the light reflected off of desert sands. For a moment, the image threatened to tear this one apart.

If they tried to remember before, would he be able to remember today?

"Mana," Atem said. "Mana, dinner's getting cold. Isis told me to come and get you—do you have your headphones in again?"

He pushed the door open a crack, peeking through.

The moment he cracked the door, it flew open all the way and he stumbled forward with a squeak. Mana's arm dropped around his shoulders and he barely had the time to look up before there was a loud, synthetic click over his head.

Mana giggled as she released Atem's shoulder, letting him regain his balance.

"Sneak attack selfie? Really?" Atem said, rubbing the back of his neck—he might have pulled it a little in the movement. "You could have just asked."

Mana waved her phone back and forth with a huge, sparkling grin.

"And miss out on the chance to get your face like that? No way!"

She jumped back over the pile of photos, clippings, and scrapbook décor scattered all over the floor—she must have been working on that massive scrapbook project of hers again. The book lay open to a blank page towards the end, stuffed so full of photos and memorabilia already that it looked like it was about to explode memories all over the floor.

She grinned as she stared down at her phone and flipped to the gallery. A snort tumbled out of her nose.

"This one is going right in the middle of the page," she said.

"Let me see," Atem said, reaching for the phone.

"Nuh uh!"

She held her phone just out of his reach, reaching up on her tip toes to take advantage of the two inches she still had on him.

"You have to wait til I put it into the scrapbook!"

"Oh really?" Atem said, grinning at her mischievously.

He poked her under the ribs and Mana squealed, her arms snapping down to her sides instinctively to protect from the tickles. That was all Atem needed to snag the phone from her fingers and dance back out of the way, turning around so that he could look at the picture before she could snag it back.

"Temmmmmmiiiiiiiii," Mana whined, throwing herself at his back and trying to reach over her shoulders for the phone. "Give it baaaack!"

Atem laughed and held it just out of her reach.

"What if I just…" he grinned over his shoulder at her, finger hovering over the delete button.

"Noooo, that's a centerpiece for my new page—"

Her laugh in between her word became a squeak as suddenly someone's foot caught on the giant scrapbook. Both of them let out a cry as they tumbled back at the same time, landing with the same "OOF"

"Uuugh…this is what Isis doesn't want us to horseplay in the house," Atem said.

"Can't breathe, get off," Mana groaned, pushing him by the shoulders to heave him onto the floor. He rolled off and landed on his stomach, still holding her phone.

For a moment, they both just laid there. Mana let out one breathy giggle, and Atem had to smile, but neither of them spoke. It was like they didn't feel they had to. Atem turned the phone towards him and unlocked it—Mana was horribly simple with her knock codes, and she hadn't changed it since the last time he had stolen her phone to change her wallpaper. The photo was still on the screen, Mana winking with an Instagram model's flair as she pulled Atem towards her by the arm around his shoulders—he looked ridiculous, Atem thought with a faint smile. Like he was drunk, or something. His eyes were all droopy and his mouth hanging open.

He closed the phone again without deleting the photo—knowing Mana, it was probably already backed up to three different internet services anyway.

For a moment, it was only the silence between them, the dust swirling in the sunlight from her window.

"You've already got a lot in that photo album," he said.

"Mmhm," Mana said.

"With all your social media stuff, I'm always kind of surprised you're making a physical copy…aren't there online scrapbooking stuff? You'd probably save a lot on the decorations."

Mana rolled over onto her side so that she could look at him. The sunlight caught her eyes just so, so that there was only one line of brilliant green, and the rest was so dark it was almost black. Her eyes seemed to glow as though they were made of real gems.

"I dunno if the internet will still be around the next time we come back," she said. "I have to make sure there's a physical copy hidden away too. So that we don't lose all the memories again."

Her voice was so quiet that it could have been the dust speaking to him. Atem felt his smile disappear slowly. Mana dragged her finger through the carpet and left trails behind.

"I don't want to forget any of the memories we've made together," she said. "I don't want to forget."

Atem's hand slid across the carpet, but stopped before it reached her hand.

He couldn't say what he wanted to say. The truth, that he wasn't even sure was quite the truth.

Sometimes, I wish I could forget, he thought. Sometimes, I do want to forget.

"We should write it down," she said again. "So that we can't forget anything next time."

"Why don't we just focus on the memories now?"

She put her hands on her hips, rolling up to a seated position.

"Of course we have to remember the things now. But if we wait much longer, we'll grow up. The last life will disappear. Is that what you want?"

He looked up into the autumn sky, the clouds that were starting to form. A gray stain on an otherwise clear blue day.

"I don't know," he whispered.