A floodgate of memories

Cindy sat cross-legged on the floor, the old laptop perched on her knees as she stared at the password prompt. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, her mind scrambling to piece together fragments of old memories. Her fingers drummed nervously on the side of the laptop. She had tried every obvious password she could think of—her name, her favorite colors, random combinations of numbers—but nothing worked. It was maddening.

Cindy closed her eyes, trying to think back to when she was younger, to what might have mattered enough to use as a password. She was desperate to unlock whatever was hidden in this relic of her past. Then, suddenly, a faint memory tugged at her. She remembered a time when she and Carmen were laughing about sharing secrets. They'd joked about using a combination of their birthdates for things, something that would link them together forever.