Edio Yenye Shavu

The late June sun baked Dallas into a shimmering haze, turning White Rock Lake into a mirror of molten gold outside Bill Hargrove's ranch-style house. It was June 28, 2026—four months since the weigh-in that had marked Bill's irreversible surrender to immobility and dependence. The air conditioner hummed constantly, straining against the triple-digit heat, but inside the master bedroom, the atmosphere was thicker, heavier, laced with the scents of sweat, spilled Ensure shakes, and the faint, med