At first, it didnāt feel serious.
Just small things.
The kind everyone forgets.
Where he left his keys.
What he was about to say.
Why he walked into a room.
Normal.
Harmless.
Thatās what he told himself.
āIt happens to everyone.ā
And for a whileā¦
It did.
Days passed.
Nothing unusual.
Until the forgetting becameā¦ different.
Not bigger.
Justā¦ stranger.
One morning, he woke up and looked at his phone.
There was a message he didnāt remember sending.
To a friend.
Short.
āIāll handle it tonight.ā
He stared at it.
āWhatā¦?ā
He didnāt remember typing that.
Didnāt remember thinking about it.
He checked the time.
2:47 AM.
He was asleep then.
Or at leastā¦
He thought he was.
He brushed it off.
āMaybe I woke up and forgot.ā
That happens.
Right?
But something didnāt sit right.
That message didnāt feel like him.
The wording.
The tone.
Tooā¦ certain.
He ignored it.
Tried to move on.
But over the next few daysā¦
More things happened.
Small at first.
Objects moved.
Not lost.
Justā¦ not where he left them.
His notebook.
His jacket.
His phone.
Always slightly different.
Like someone used them.
Then put them back.
His chest tightened every time.
āAm I doing thisā¦?ā
He started writing things down.
Testing himself.
Leaving notes.
āKeys on table.ā
āDoor locked.ā
āLights off.ā
Just to be sure.
At firstā¦
Everything matched.
Then one nightā¦
It didnāt.
He woke up.
Checked his notes.
āDoor locked.ā
He looked at the door.
It was open.
Slightly.
His heart slowed.
āNoā¦ā
He got up slowly.
Walked toward it.
Closed it again.
Locked it.
Double checked.
Went back to bed.
Didnāt sleep well.
The next morningā¦
He checked his phone.
Another message.
This time to himself.
Saved as a draft.
Three words.
āStop looking.ā
His hands started shaking.
āI didnāt write thisā¦ā
Now it wasnāt forgetfulness.
This was something else.
Something worse.
He sat down.
Trying to think.
Trying to stay calm.
āThereās a reasonā¦ā
āThere has to be a reasonā¦ā
But deep downā¦
He already felt it.
Something was wrong.
Not outside.
Inside.
That nightā¦
He decided to stay awake.
No sleeping.
No guessing.
He needed to see what was happening.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
Silence.
Thenā¦
Around 2:47 AM.
His phone lit up.
Without a notification.
Justā¦ turned on.
His heart started racing.
He picked it up slowly.
The notes app was open.
Typing.
On its own.
Letter by letter.
His breath stopped.
He watched.
Frozen.
As the words appeared.
āYouāre awake.ā
His chest tightened.
Then another line.
āFinally.ā
His hands were shaking now.
āWhat is thisā¦?ā he whispered.
The typing stopped.
For a second.
Thenā
New words.
āYouāre not supposed to see me.ā
His heart slammed in his chest.
Because nowā¦
He understood something terrifying:
He wasnāt forgetting things.
He was sharing his lifeā¦
With something else.
