Trying even harder.

The note suddenly has more text on it. "His friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances all forget him. They can't remember him even if they see him again. Every time they look away, he vanishes from their mind again."

"So how many times have you fucked me since we came up with this system?" Becky asked nonchalantly as they lay together in bed. Sam had explained everything to her and they were lounging in post-coital haze. He found that he no longer needed to **** her - she was very warm and open to him by default now. "I don't know, dozens. Maybe hundreds. It all blurs together a little. But it's working! It's a slow process, but every time I meet you you seem just a little more into me."

She laughed and played with his hair. "I'll say! But don't you get sick of explaining it over and over?"

He shrugged. "I mean, of course I do. But I don't know if there's a way around that."

She sat up, sending delightful jiggles through her chest. "Maybe there is. Have you tried leaving notes?"

He sighed. "Of course I have, Becky. I've tried notes, videos, all sorts of things. But it just fades. The moment you look away it's gone. There's a whole directory on your computer you can't remember. God, I wish it was that simple."

She frowned, deep in thought. "Ok, notes about you don't stick. But what if they're not necessarily about you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What if he found a way to communicate?" the note asked. "What if he could only communicate through fiction? He wouldn't be able to just give you information. That would be forgotten too quickly." Becky looked around her apartment nervously. Who had left her this note? And how did text keep appearing on it?