Confused, I looked around the seemingly blank room for some sort of clues. I had my pants and socks, shirt, and clothes. My shoes had vanished.

In my usual habits, I clapped my hand over my pockets. No phone, no wallet, no keys. "What the hell..." I muttered, now running my hand over the white wall's perfectly flat surface.

It glowed ever-so-slightly at the touch, but there was no light source in the room whatsoever. Almost like I was trapped inside an Amazon box painted white. There were no windows, doors, tables, chairs...it was practically a blank space.

Panic set in by now. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here. I just...was. How old was I? Where was I from? Why couldn't I recall anything?

All I could do was search and search around the room, growing more and more desperate about hoping to find SOMETHING that was not...void of any detail. I could feel myself sweat from the anxiety.

My focus on the walls and ceiling had distracted me, however, and I nearly kicked myself when I saw a folded piece of paper. How could I have missed it!? Was it always there? Had I ever actually looked at that spot?

Was it, like this room, blank?

The last question hit me like a ton of bricks. The faded blue denim of my jeans contrasted the floor vaguely as I looked down. The paper felt...well, I'd never really thought about how it felt before. It was just...there.

As I unfolded and heard the crackle of the page, an odd sense of hope flooded through me. Maybe it was a clue to getting out. Instructions or a detail about something I missed in this room.

Fifteen folds...who the hell has the time for that? It felt like an eternity to undo them all. My own impatience would be my undoing it felt. My eagerness seemed like it would get the better of me as I unfurled the final fold to reveal a single, sloppily written sentence in the middle of the page.

"We have been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty."