As I stood there at the dump, surrounded by the overwhelming smell of decay and the chaotic noise of scavenging birds, I pressed on, determined to uncover the mystery that had clearly driven my husband to madness. The fabric of the mattress was faded and torn, a testament to years of use, but what lay within was far from mundane.
With a deep breath, I sliced through the stained covering. The stuffing spilled out, but it wasn’t just the usual foam or springs.
