My name is Arian. I remember my school, my mom’s voice, my cat's name.

  But I don’t know the bell.

  The strange part is—I know it should be there.

  Every school has a bell, right?

  It started last Thursday. The day I saved a kid from getting crushed by a falling construction panel.

  No one saw me move. One second I was on the sidewalk, next, I was across the street with him in my arms.

  Everyone clapped. I didn’t. I was too busy trying to remember... what sound came after recess.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  It was gone.

  Like someone erased a single thread from the fabric of my mind.

  The more I use this "power," the more pieces I lose.

  Memories, emotions... names.

  Now I’m standing in the hallway. My teacher is saying something, but her words seem to be bouncing off the glass.

  I can hear them, but I can’t keep them.

  Tomorrow, I’ll try not to use it.

  But what if someone needs saving again?

  What if... the next thing I forget is my name?