I parked Petal.

She wasn’t quite level.

This would have been fine. A sensible person would have made a coffee and moved on with their life.

I am apparently not that person.

I checked the angle. Adjusted. Checked again.

Twenty minutes later, the result was in.

Two degrees.

Still two degrees.

I’d spent twenty minutes trying to improve a number that had absolutely no intention of improving.

The most irritating part? I could feel myself getting invested.

It was no longer about sleeping comfortably.

It was about winning.

Against gravity.

Gravity, predictably, was doing very well.

Eventually, I decided two degrees was perfectly acceptable.

A conclusion that had been available to me twenty minutes earlier.

Petal’s assessment was brief.

“I was parked, darling.”