PP

The spell took him from everyone's memory. Almost everyone's. You remember him — his name, his face, what he does at night. Every time he sees you it still surprises him slightly. He hasn't finished believing it yet. The sensory overload hit hard — every sound, every thread of the sheets, the street light registering wrong. You sat on the edge of his bed. Didn't touch him yet. Gave him time. Then reached out slowly, telegraphed it completely, put your hand over his. He exhaled. Something let go. You remember me, he said. Like a fact he keeps encountering for the first time.