If Monday had been bad, Tuesday arrived like it had something to prove.Ben’s body refused to cooperate with consciousness. He lay sprawled across the mattress, arms and legs flung wide, staring at the ceiling and silently cursing every choice that had led him to believe scrubbing floors and hauling boxes were casual, everyday activities and not, apparently, an Olympic event designed to punish hubris.With a low groan, he rolled out of bed, every muscle lighting up in protest. He had worked construction in college. He ran. He hiked. He had always thought of himself as active, durable, someone who could bounce back from a hard day with nothing more than a sore shoulder and a good night’s sleep.At thirty-three, he still thought of himself as young.His knees, however, had filed a formal complaint. He rubbed at the dull ache in his lower back and made a mental note to take it easier. Today would be calm, he decided. Reasonable. Low stress. He would do a few hours of actual work, clean ou
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