TRUE MEMORY FOAM

Dark turns to light, and you slide from beneath the warmth that envelops you. It’s a grey day, perhaps not as grey as yesterday, but certainly more grey than the sunny Monday previously, and the Monday before that. You slog through the day, return to cool sheets, and curl up into a ball. You sleep with another, and your arm falls asleep beneath their head.

Your bed remembers of course. The tumult of the day and the trance of the night. How do we trace these memories?