An ad offers a time-share body: mornings are yours, nights belong to someone else. The arrangement is affordable and oddly freeing. You wake to find dishes washed, laundry folded. In return, you leave notes: "Enjoy the concert. Water the plant." Over time, the other occupant starts leaving playlists and advice. Weekends are negotiated like vacation weeks. When a friend asks why you seem well-rested, you shrug, unable to explain shared bones without sounding haunted.
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