Not My First Wish
Arthur Pendleton woke up slowly, like he was hit by a ton of bricks. His usually comfy bed - or sofa, where more days than not the 71 years old man felt asleep in - seemingly replaced by a hard bench that was killing his back. He was used to pain in the back and in his joints, which old man wasn't, yet this time it felt stranger than usual, concentrated on his neck and shoulders, while two heavy weights seemed resting on his chest. As he turned on his side, Arthur realized he was not in his bed or even in his house. Whiffs of air passed through his naked skin, in areas that he always covered well, like his legs. Opening his eyes, his sight was obstructed by dark hair, an unusual sight for the retired carpenter, who went bald when he was in his forties. He panicked and bolted upright. Too fast. The weight on the chest swung heavily, nearly pitched forward off the bench. Arthur steadied himself on the edge of the locker room bench, and that was when he looked down an...