Then the phone rang. It was his mother. She was crying. "Arthur, I just got a call from a woman who says she's your daughter. She's thirty years old. She says you disappeared when she was five."
He thought about the daughter he now remembered—her first steps, her fever at two years old, the sound of her laugh. She wasn't real. But the memory was. key duplication cck
"Yes. Flat 4B, Cedar Gardens."