I woke up later than usual. The sun was soft, slipping through the curtains like it always did. My phone sat on the desk, buzzing quietly with notifications I barely noticed. The room looked the same—my jacket draped over the chair, my shoes kicked under the bed. Everything normal. Too normal.
I stretched, yawned, and shuffled into the kitchen. My mother was there, humming a tune I couldn't place. She turned, smiled… or at least, I thought it was a smile. Something felt off.
"Morning, Adam," I said, rubbing my eyes.
Her gaze froze on me. Not a blink. Not a smile. Just… stillness.
"Can I help you?" she asked, almost cautiously.
I frowned. "Mom… it's me. Adam."
Her eyes widened slightly, and she took a small step back.
"I'm sorry… who are you?"
My stomach dropped. I laughed nervously, thinking maybe she was joking.
"Very funny. You're messing with me, right?"
Her face didn't change. The lines around her mouth stayed tense, her brow tight. My mother didn't joke like this.
I stepped closer. "Mom, seriously… it's me. Look, your coffee cup—"
She shook her head. "No. You're not him. You're a stranger."
A chill ran down my spine.
I looked around, hoping I was imagining things. The kitchen was the same: the chipped tile near the sink, the small crack by the window, the stain on the counter where I had spilled juice last week. Every detail familiar. Yet… she didn't recognize me.
I swallowed hard. "You're lying. This isn't funny anymore."
She reached for her phone. "I'm calling my husband."
My heart stopped.
Her husband?
"Wait—he's my dad!" I said, panic rising in my throat. But the words felt wrong coming out of my mouth. They didn't belong to this place, this time, these people.
I stumbled back. The chair clattered behind me. My mind raced.
Maybe it was a dream. A nightmare. I pinched my arm. It hurt. Not a dream. Not a trick of my imagination.
I bolted out of the house, my feet barely touching the ground. The street looked normal—familiar buildings, parked cars, the same cracked sidewalk—but the emptiness around me screamed differently. Neighbors passed, faces I thought I knew. None of them looked at me twice.
I ran to the corner shop. "Hey! Do you know me?" I asked the cashier—a woman with bright eyes who always teased me about my slow homework.
She blinked. "Sorry… I don't think I know you."
"No. No, you do. I live three houses down."
Her head tilted. "I'm sorry… maybe you're new here?"
I could feel panic bubbling in my chest, spreading like fire. My throat tightened, my hands shook. Everything I knew was gone. Everything except… me.
I wandered back home, hoping against hope that maybe this was temporary. Maybe if I explained more… but my mother was gone. The house was empty. Like she had never existed.
I sat on the porch steps, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I needed answers. I needed someone to tell me I wasn't losing my mind.
Then I noticed it. A small notebook on the porch—my notebook. I didn't leave it there yesterday. I opened it, flipping through pages filled with scribbles, reminders, doodles, ideas for stories. Everything I had written remained untouched. I was still here. I still existed.
But everyone else… they had forgotten me.
I clenched the notebook to my chest, feeling the weight of the emptiness around me. Every person I knew, every friend, every teacher, every casual hello on the street… all erased.
A shadow moved across the street. I looked up. A girl, around my age, watching me intently.
"You… you remember me too?" I asked, hesitating.
Her lips curved into a small, sad smile. "I don't know what's happening. But yes… I remember. Just like you."
Her words were both a relief and a terror. Relief because I wasn't alone. Terror because if this happened to both of us… then it was bigger than we could understand.
The wind whispered through the trees, and I realized that the world I knew had shifted. The rules had changed. Everything familiar was suddenly foreign.
And the strangest thought came unbidden into my mind: If they can forget me… maybe they already have. And maybe, one day, they'll forget her too.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart. When I opened them, the girl was still there, staring.
"Come on," she said quietly. "We need to find out why this is happening… before it's too late."
I nodded, gripping my notebook tightly.
And together, we stepped into a world that no longer remembered us.