Arthur wasn't a man of impulse, but his back had been staging a silent protest for months. Every morning, he rolled out of bed feeling like a question mark—stiff, crooked, and tired. His old foam mattress, once a soft cloud, had devolved into a humid, saggy crater.
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Arthur didn't even bother with sheets. He fell forward, face-first. Arthur wasn't a man of impulse, but his
That night, Arthur didn’t just sleep; he hibernated. He woke up at 8:00 AM without an alarm, his back feeling as fluid as a teenager's. He sat on the edge of the bed, tested the edge support—solid—and smiled. Arthur wasn't a man of impulse