Amanda didn’t run.
Every instinct in her body told her to—but something stronger held her in place.
If she ran, it would mean this was real.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
“You said it’s being forgotten,” she said, her voice tighter than she intended. “That doesn’t make sense.”
The man studied her, as if weighing whether she could handle the truth.
“Does any of this make sense?” he asked quietly.
Amanda opened her mouth—
then closed it.
Because no, it didn’t.
Not the missing tree. Not the vanished streetlight. Not the road that simply… ended.
“Who are you?” she asked instead.
A pause.
Like even that question had become complicated.
“…Kofi,” he said finally. “I think.”
Amanda frowned. “You think?”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Names are… harder to hold onto now.”
A chill slid down her spine.
“What do you mean?”
Kofi looked past her, toward the empty stretch where the road used to be.
“The more Duase disappears, the more it takes with it,” he said. “Places first. Then things. Then…” He hesitated.
“Then what?” Amanda pressed.
He looked at her again.
“People.”
The word landed heavier than anything else.
Amanda shook her head immediately. “No. That’s not—people don’t just disappear.”
“They do,” Kofi said. Not harshly. Just… certain. “You just don’t notice when they’re gone.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” he asked.
Amanda felt something flicker in her mind.
A gap.
Small. Almost nothing.
But enough.
There had been someone—hadn’t there? Someone who used to sit near the front during assembly at school. Always early. Always quiet.
She tried to picture their face.
Nothing came.
Her stomach dropped.
“…No,” she whispered. “That’s just me forgetting.”
Kofi didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that presses in on you.
Amanda wrapped her arms around herself. The night felt colder now.
“What’s causing it?” she asked.
Kofi gave a small, humorless laugh. “If I knew that, do you think I’d still be here?”
“Then how long has this been happening?”
Another pause.
“Long enough,” he said. “Just… not long enough for everyone to notice.”
Amanda exhaled shakily. “But I notice.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Kofi tilted his head slightly. “That’s the right question.”
Amanda stepped closer, frustration rising. “Then answer it.”
“I can’t.”
Her hands clenched. “You seem to know everything else.”
“I don’t,” he said, sharper this time. “That’s the problem. I forget things too.”
The edge in his voice caught her off guard.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, more quietly, he added, “I just forget slower.”
Amanda looked around.
Duase still looked like Duase.
The same houses. The same quiet streets.
But now she could see it—the subtle wrongness beneath everything.
Like a picture fading at the edges.
“What happens when everything is gone?” she asked.
Kofi didn’t hesitate.
“There’s nothing left to forget.”
Amanda turned away from him, her thoughts racing.
This couldn’t be happening.
Towns didn’t disappear because people forgot them.
Memories didn’t rewrite reality.
That wasn’t how the world worked.
But then—
Where was the mango tree?
Where was the streetlight?
Where was the road?
Her breathing quickened.
“Okay,” she said suddenly, turning back to him. “Then we stop it.”
Kofi blinked. “Stop it?”
“Yes,” Amanda said, more firmly now. “If it’s tied to memory, then we make people remember.”
He stared at her.
And for the first time—
Something like hope flickered across his face.
“You think it’s that simple?”
“No,” Amanda admitted. “But doing nothing clearly isn’t working.”
Kofi let out a slow breath.
Then nodded once.
“…Alright.”
They started with something small.
The mango tree.
Amanda led him back to where it had stood.
“This is where it was,” she said, pointing at the empty space. “Everyone used to stop here. It gave shade. People talked here.”
Kofi looked around.
“There’s nothing,” he said.
“I know,” Amanda snapped. “That’s the problem.”
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember.
The way the leaves rustled.
The way the fruit dropped too early sometimes.
The way children used to throw stones to knock them down.
“It was real,” she whispered. “It mattered.”
Kofi watched her carefully.
“Then hold onto that,” he said. “Don’t let it slip.”
Amanda opened her eyes.
“I won’t.”
A breeze passed through.
Soft.
Barely there.
But for a split second—
Kofi’s expression changed.
“What?” Amanda asked quickly.
“I…” He stepped closer to the empty space. “I thought I saw—”
“What?”
“…A shadow,” he said slowly. “Like something was there.”
Amanda’s heart leapt.
“Then it’s working.”
“Or we’re imagining it,” Kofi said.
“No,” Amanda said firmly. “We’re not.”
But even as she said it—
Something inside her shifted.
A small, quiet thought.
Uninvited.
Was it always a mango tree?
Amanda froze.
No.
No, it was.
She was sure.
Wasn’t she?
Her certainty wavered for just a second
But that was enough.
The feeling slipped.
The image blurred.
And suddenly—
She couldn’t remember the tree as clearly as before.
Amanda’s breath hitched.
“No…” she whispered.
Kofi saw it immediately.
“What happened?”
“I—” She shook her head, panic rising. “I can’t—”
Her voice broke.
“I can’t remember it properly.”
The space in front of them felt emptier than before.
More finality.
Like something had just been erased… completely.
Kofi stepped back slowly.
“That’s how it happens,” he said.
Amanda looked at him, her eyes wide.
“That’s how Duase disappears.”
In the distance, something flickered.
Another streetlight.
Then
darkness.
One more piece gone.
And this time
Amanda didn’t need to ask where it had been.
Because she had already forgotten.