But small things arrived too鈥攁ds tailored to an old bakery she鈥檇 once mentioned, a notification about a local fair with the same date her cousin's wedding had been years ago, then a notification she didn鈥檛 expect: a friend request from a name she couldn't place and a message that read, "Do you remember me? From the music class at the community hall?"
Eteima's carefulness stirred. She messaged Lala: "This link鈥攚here did you get it?" Lala replied, "From an old group I was in. Thought you'd like the photos." No more. Eteima scrolled back through her own timeline and discovered other odd echoes: a suggestion to join a group she never searched for, a memory reminder for an event she had never attended.
The page opened and loaded slowly, as if deciding how much of the past it would reveal. Images spilled across the screen鈥攕epia streets, boys with kite tails, a school choir frozen mid-song. There, in the edge of one frame, she thought she saw her mother, much younger, hair wrapped in an old sari pattern Eteima had only seen in albums. Her heart tugged.