Emma began investigating. She didn't know how to investigate, she was seven years old, and investigating was not something children did. But she had questions, and she needed answers. She started by looking for evidence of Tom. --- She searched her room. There should have been evidence, drawings they had made together, toys they had shared, notes they had passed. But there was nothing. It was as if Tom had been erased from her belongings as thoroughly as he had been erased from everyone's memories. Except Emma still remembered. She searched the classroom. Tom's desk was gone, not just empty, but completely removed. The space where it had stood was now filled with a bookshelf, as if the desk had never been there. But Emma remembered where it had been. She remembered sitting next to it, talking to Tom, sharing crayons. She searched the playground. There was no trace of Tom, no favorite hiding spot, no special game they had played, no mark he had left on the world. It was as if he had never existed. But Emma remembered. And her memory was becoming sharper, more detailed, more insistent. She found something unexpected. In the corner of the playground, hidden behind a bush, was a small object, a toy car, red and scratched, with a wheel missing. Emma recognized it immediately. It was Tom's favorite toy. He had shown it to her just last week. She picked it up. The car was real, solid in her hand, evidence that Tom had existed. Someone had tried to erase him, but they had missed this. They had missed the toy car hidden in the bushes. Emma felt a surge of triumph. But she also felt fear. If someone was erasing children, removing them from existence, deleting them from memory, then Emma was in danger. She had noticed. She remembered. She was asking questions. What would they do to her?