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It took her most of the morning to put two and two together. At first, she was only deeply disappointed that it clearly hadn't worked as intended - that she still remembered her old life. But after she'd misplaced half a dozen things while preparing a simple breakfast for everyone, she was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion, and then, when Jessamine asked her to hold something for her and then asked for it back two minutes later, by which point Cinnamon no longer had it and couldn't remember where she'd put it down, she knew something was deeply wrong. She'd always had a mind like a steel trap, but that potion... it had made her into a proper ditz! She tried not to cry, because, for a number of impossible reasons, there was no way she could ever explain why, but, well, she'd cried before, and Borovius was by now used to not always knowing. Within an hour she was bawling her eyes out, but the trouble was, she kept forgetting why she was crying, and then started sobbing freshly each time it came back to her. And thus it was. Magic had deeply touched Cinnamon's life twice now, and never for the better. Borovius noticed her new flightiness, but really couldn't make heads or tails of what he could possibly do about it. Jessamine wasn't a skilled enough mage that anyone even mentioned the possibility of her being able to help. Cinnamon could only miserably move on with her life and hope that the effects would wear off in due course. Naturally, this was not the case. A few years passed. Cinnamon continued to grow, and one day, she woke up early with morning sickness. She had Borovius's daughter nine months later, and it really was unlike anything she'd experienced before, but more than anything else she was scared to death that she would forget one of the child's basic needs and let her die. She continued to weep frequently, and Borovius was sad every time he saw it, especially since he could do nothing to help.
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