Hidden Memory

I opened the mattress topper we'd purchased for the spare bedroom's double bed at my sister's house.

I'd slept alone on the bed for a week at a time amending the too firm mattress with the comforter under the fitted sheet (helped only a little).
After one long night following a plane ride jammed into the last row in seats with obnoxious head rests and no ability to recline, we gave in and got this 'bread and butter' present because the comforter wasn't big enough for two people.
Grateful to find the washable cotton cover in it's own little bag, I got that into the washing machine to wash out the 'sizing'.
Even before we read the inserted "Product Disclaimer" (also translated honestly into Spainish "Renuncia de Responsabilidad") we planned to open and air-out the unwashable foam pad.
I tore off the 3 strips of tape over plastic pallet wrap, unfolded the compressed pad, grabbed my camera phone to record the tiny handprints as their memories quickly faded away.
The image of many people surrounding the pad, smushing/folding/smushing it all at once and someone else wrapping it QUICK! before it could get away lingers in MY memory.