Kilechi's Memory Wipe

Kilechi's hibiscus tea has become a staple in every commissary on our street. On his pale skin are wrinkles that weren't there two years ago when we first greeted each other from their front stoops. When he gets back we'll look through everything. It's, if that's how far back they go with the wipe, I get my old Patrice back. That's sweet. I also kind of fucked up. Bodhi needs time to decide. She would never think something like that if the Institute scheduled me for a memory wipe. If you also want your old Pat Rice back your professive playhead, then you should see the upside in it.