Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Michael as he looked at the package. He had no memory of anyone named "Arthur Finch." It should probably be returned. But his feet wouldn’t move.

Inside was a series of meticulously crafted paper airplanes, each folded with incredible precision. He picked one up, studying the intricate folds. A sharp pang of something he couldn't name resonated in his chest. A sudden sense of being utterly alone. He felt a profound disorientation, as if the familiar colors of his life were draining away, replaced by an unsettling gray. He tried to remember who he was, and the harder he tried the more distant the memories seemed to become.