He remembers how, after many months had passed and the detectives and FBI had pulled up no solid leads, Jin’s friends and family had hinted that they move on and try again, have another child, rebuild the family. He recalls how horrified he and Margaret were. Replacing Amara with another child seemed tantamount to giving up on her, a betrayal. Of course they both knew it meant no such thing, but when they tried, it felt wrong. Perhaps, he thinks, their real fear was the possibility that it could happen all over again.

He tries to console himself with the thought that Amara is loved and cared for, even if by duped strangers. Then he wonders, if he finds her, whether her new parents would feel similar to the way he felt when the child they consider their daughter is taken from them. Would they also find it impossible to replace the irreplaceable? But replacing — birth and death, mortality and genetic repetition — is this not the most fundamental of natural laws? And with replacing, there is forgetting. Would Amara even remember her first three years? Would she simply fill in the time, the sensations, with what she’d come to know — her new parents, new reality set like plaster masks atop the old ones, until the masks are no longer masks but beloved faces that, with time, would fill her entire being?

After a few more stops, the bus is stuffed up with people, all adults. By the time they leave the Chinatown area, it is standing-room only. This makes it difficult for Jin to keep an eye on the front door. Even if he were to give up his seat and stand, some of those standing are taller than he is, so it would be nearly impossible to survey the entire length of the bus.

He learns from the man sitting in front of him that the bus goes downtown, terminating at City Hall before starting on its next loop. This may place him near his office; he fears the possibility of bumping into one of his co-workers. He pulls the cord above his head. When the bus stops, he gets off. Already he feels exhausted, his mind running in every direction, playing out every possibility. It is hard to imagine getting on another bus and going through the same ordeal again. Yet he doesn’t want to give up on the day.

But replacing — birth and death, mortality and genetic repetition — is this not the most fundamental of natural laws? And with replacing, there is forgetting.

It can’t hurt, he tells himself. The damage is undeniable, though. Down to the center of each cell in his body, he can feel it.

He boards another bus, sitting this time in the front. With rush hour over, the bus is only a third or so full, so in the end it doesn’t matter where he sits. He surveys the passengers: no little girls, only adults with somewhere to go. A flash of anger comes over him: Why could I not have been given a sign, at least?

The bus stops in front of a strip mall; the remaining passengers exit. The driver turns to Jin: “End of the line, sir!”

Jin nods and gets off the bus. It is lunchtime; he is famished. The thought of remaining stationary for a while appeals to him. In a small café, he works on a ham sandwich without really tasting it. His thoughts turn to a word in the back of his head. On Saturday afternoons, he and Margaret go for a walk around a nearby lake. Three-quarters of the way around the lake, they fall into a walking rhythm and walk side by side in silence. One Saturday, unexpectedly, Margaret bursts into tears, and murmurs, “It’s not normal, it’s not normal…”

Jin understands that the word “normal” has not described their lives for some time. Jin also understands that Margaret’s meaning of the word excludes his devotion to the fortuneteller’s strange truth.

The sky is purple, the crowd on the bus thinning out as the evening rush hour winds down. Jin has not been keeping track of what number bus he gets on, he has been all over the city. People enter, shuffle past, then eventually disappear, often while he is not looking.

The bus he’s now on is headed back toward Chinatown. Perhaps it’s the same bus he started the day on. If he wants to, he can get off and walk to another stop to catch a different bus. But the strange logic of it all exhausts him.