The Art Of The UnderDog

Chapter 35

Tyler’s abrupt awakening was marked by a sudden jolt, his body surging upwards from the comfort of the bed, perspiration trickling down in rivulets across every contour of his face. His heart, like an overenthusiastic drummer, pounded relentlessly within the cage of his ribs, the muscles around his eyes exhibiting small, involuntary twitches as they struggled to focus on a seemingly inconspicuous point in the room. A potent cocktail of fear and anxiety was painted across his features, each emotion etched vividly as his breaths escalated into an almost aggressive rhythm.

Surveying his surroundings with a gaze that seemed to comb through every inch of the room, Tyler’s eyes scoured as though in search of an elusive answer. Then, in the midst of this tumultuous tempest of emotions, a realization slowly unfurled within him like the petals of a blooming flower.

“Oh dang it!” He snapped. It was all but a dream, a figment of his subconscious weaving a tapestry of surreal narratives. A sigh,