A fog. I swear, I see a fog. Right now. This very second. It just appeared! Wait, I can see a machine. It looks almost like a light-post, directly to my left, is leaking the smoke. But what purpose does it serve? Why am I the only person alarmed by this? As I look around, no one else has noticed. Not a single person. The fog – the mist, white and terrifying, is just going into their eyes! Writhing and roiling, it’s drawing ever closer to me. I have no choice – I pull down my fedora, close my coat, turn, and sprint the other direction.

My name is Remy Confesseur; one might describe me as average. I work as a teller in a bank, and every day I go through the same routine. I start my day at the bank, where I work for almost five hours, from 8:00 AM to 1:00 PM. When the clock hits 1:00, I take my break and go to the café down the street for some lunch, a nice baguette or croissant and a cup of coffee. The waiter and I might have a nice chat, and I will most likely hear about a lot of the local gossip; the waiters, chatty and desperate for attention, will say anything to anyone who will listen. Then I will leave, continue working, and go home for the night. However, today, everything changed. I was leaving the café, when two men with their eyes covered executed a homeless person at random. I did not understand, until I recognized that the man I thought homeless I had actually spoken to on my way to the café.
“Sir! Sir, can I speak with you?” he shouted to me.
“I suppose. What is it that troubles you?”
“Men. There are men hunting me as far as I go. I cannot escape them; their surveillance evinces any trace of my existence no matter how hard I attempt to hide. I know not why, and I know not how to evade them, so I ask you one thing…”
“Yes, yes what is it?” I was impatient, for he seemed like an escaped mental patient, still in a straight jacket and covered in sweat from a long run.
“Do not forget we spoke. My disappearance will mean nothing if no one will remember it. I have no family, no friends; in fact, you are the first person I have spoken to in five years. Remember our meeting. I beg of you.”
“Alright. I will remember seeing you.” For how could I not? He was not exactly your average pedestrian.
Therefore, I started to turn around and leave; these men were obviously up to no good. Nothing to see, right? One of the men saw me though, and… Wait! He walked up to the light post! He must have planted the machine… But why?

I must keep running. I have to. I cannot escape the fog. It is all around me. Enveloping me in a cloud of mystery, the fog is a cloak of unknown throwing itself around my shoulders. Laughing to themselves, the two men are watching me try to escape. One of them, he raises a gun to his shoulder, aims down the sights. I feel a stinging in my leg and look down. There is a hypodermic needle; obviously, due to the fact I am slowly sinking into unconsciousness, they have sedated me. All around me smoke that whispers amnesia and wisps of white that scream forgetfulness gather. Before my sight fades, I see only white. And before my mind sleeps, I feel my memories drifting away, secret notes carried away in the wind.