THE LIFE EVERYONE REMEMBERS Marcus woke up on a Monday morning and immediately knew something was wrong. His wife wasn’t beside him. He walked downstairs. A woman he didn’t recognize was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked at him. “Marcus?” He froze. “Who are you?” The woman started crying. “Your wife.” Marcus stepped back. “No. My wife’s name is Elena.” The woman stared at him. “Marcus… I’m Elena.” He grabbed his phone. There were hundreds of photographs. Him and this woman. Their wedding. Their vacations. Their children. A life he didn’t remember living. He called his best friend. “David, something is wrong.” There was silence. Then David said: “Marcus, you don’t have a friend named David.” Marcus laughed nervously. “Very funny.” “Marcus, you were an only child. You never went to college. You met Elena when you were twenty-two. You’ve been married for eleven years.” None of it was true. Or at least, none of it was his truth. Marcus rushed to his childhood home. His mother opened the door. He hugged her. “Mom, I need help.” She stared at him. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” Marcus stopped breathing. “It’s me.” She shook her head. “My son died when he was nine.” Marcus stumbled backward. Then he noticed a framed photograph on the wall. A little boy. His name was Marcus. Underneath the photograph: 2001–2010. Marcus ran. He returned to his apartment and locked the door. His phone suddenly buzzed. A message from an unknown number: Stop trying to remember.