You’re 58, staring at a sluggish reflection—skin sallow, energy ebbing like a forgotten tide. Veins pulse with that vague heaviness,…
You’re 59, leaning in at dinner, smiling blankly while grandkids chatter—missing punchlines, faking laughs. The TV blares, yet words blur…
You’re 62, eyes snapping open at 2 a.m., heart pounding as the urgent pull drags you from bed—again. The hallway…
You’re 67, gripping the grocery cart, feeling that familiar tremble in your arms as you lift a gallon of milk.…
You’re 48, running fingers through thinning strands that snap like dry twigs. The shower drain mocks you with clumps, and…