"Great. Now the hand. Swing the legs. Don't think about the emails, or the gym, or the broken sink. Just think about the floor. The floor is the only thing that exists."

Arthur closed his eyes, ready to surrender. But then, a second voice flickered to life. This one wasn't a whisper; it was a rough, jagged spark.

Arthur stood. He wobbled, his head heavy, but he was vertical. He walked to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and looked in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess.

The alarm clock on the nightstand didn't just beep; it seemed to sneer.

Arthur grabbed his toothbrush. The "stupid fuck" wasn't an insult anymore—it was a badge of honor. He was the guy who showed up even when he didn't want to.