Prologue
He grips the sheet tight between his teeth, pulling at it like a mountaineer scaling a steep cliff. His neck muscles, tightly wound as a jack-in-the-box, pulse as he shuffles his shoulders a fraction at a time. After each second, he lies back, panting, before starting again. He's glad that there are no railings on the side of the bed because it makes his imminent literal downfall a lot easier. Finally, he breaks free of the blanket. With one last shove of his head, he careens towards the floor.
Part I: Arthur
Months earlier…
It's another day. Arthur knows this because of the daily routine he suffers through each morning, a depressing chore that heralds a new dawn. Hours have passed. Arthur spent them staring at the ceiling, counting the specks. He usually makes it to at least a thousand before something interrupts him. One day he'll get to them all. It's another day, but it's an unusual day, because a nurse is trying to force him out of his miserable room. Her name is Grace, a woman of such age that she could nearly belong here as a resident herself, with wire-frammed glasses, sharp perfume and a sagging frame. But who's he to judge, with his own body long ravaged by the years he's spent in this awful place.
