Her story begins when she is thirteen.
She doesn't remember much before, though she feels she should, but that doesn't matter because she has Zera.
Zera, who radiates a sense of familiarity and home.
She knows that the shelves of books along the walls of their home are hers, she knows Zera is her best friend, she remembers everything, and yet, nothing.
It should be scary, but it isn't. She laughs and jokes with Zera, but the first thirteen years of their life are never brought up.
She doesn't know what to make of it.
So she reads.
Some of the books, she feels as though she could recite them word for word, so she sets them aside in one pile, reading slowly, delighted by how she can be surprised all over again by something she knows.
Others are obviously more recent, spines still shiny, edges still sharp. She devours them, taking in every bit of new information she can.
She particularly likes the fantasy and adventures which occupy nearly half the library.
She finds some of her own writing when resting at a desk, tired from her reading marathon.
A few sheets of paper, not much, but she knows that the handwriting there is hers.
The story is wonderful, not quite as good as what she just finished reading, but getting there. She hunts down as many drafts as she can, after reviewing them all, they lay strewn haphazardly accross the desk surface.
When Zera comes tramping in, arms loaded with food, she freezes, nearly dropping the basket.
And then Zera giggles, "Back to writing, huh? Just when I cleaned up that table."
Mio has the decency to look sheepish as she tries to stuff the papers into a neat stack.