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The voice returned, now inside her skull. "Echo #7341 is a residual emotional imprint. The man is Arthur. His daughter, Lily, died five years ago. Your job is to give him closure. Say the line."

For the next six hours, she cycled through thirty-seven "Echoes." A widow who needed to hear her husband say goodbye. A soldier who wanted to apologize to his brother. A child who just wanted to be tucked in one last time. zooskoll.com

The woman smiled sadly. "Hi, Maya. I’m here to give you closure. Please close your eyes." The voice returned, now inside her skull

Maya hesitated, then obeyed.

The world tilted. She wasn't in her apartment anymore. She was standing in a sun-drenched kitchen that smelled of burnt toast and lilacs. A man she had never met sat at a table, crying into his hands. He looked up. His daughter, Lily, died five years ago