Calorie Counting for Mom's Love

In the end, I was "awakened" by the smell of barbecue. I tried to swallow on instinct, but I realized I couldn't control my throat. Suddenly, I began to float.

My vision passed through the ceiling, then slowly drifted back down. There it was, my crooked, unnaturally twisted body, lying face down on the living room floor.

Next to my hand was a crumpled notebook, my book of sins, used to record my weight and calories. In my final moments, I had wanted to write a note, but fear held me back.

Mom always said only weak people did things like that. So, I turned a fresh page and, with trembling hands, wrote down my last wish.

"Target weight: 0lbs. I didn't sneak food. I was good."

After writing that, I died, exactly on New Year's Eve.

The clock on the wall pointed to 1:00 am. The door opened, and cold air rushed in, mixed with laughter and cheerful voices.

"Dinner tonight was amazing!" Dad said.

"Totally worth a five-star hotel. Every bite was incredible," Abigail chirped, looping her arm through Mom's.

Mom was wearing a white cashmere coat, tall and slender as ever. Tapping Abigail's nose, she said fondly, "Alright, don't get too excited. You'll get wrinkles."

As soon as she stepped into the living room, her brow creased. She lifted a hand and waved it in front of her nose. "What's that smell? Why does it smell… rotten?"

Oh, that was just the smell of my decaying body, mixed with the stench of kidney failure.

Abigail gagged dramatically and covered her nose. "Gosh, it stinks! Mom, did Aurora hide food again? Something must've gone bad! I told you, she's basically a trash can!"

Mom's face went cold in an instant. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her designer bag. She shouted at my body, "Aurora, are you dead or what? The smell is so bad, and you didn't notice it? Get up and open a window!"

I floated in midair, looking at her with a bitter calm. Mom, I actually was dead.

From where she stood, I was turned away from her, a thin blanket draped over me. It covered most of my body, leaving only my swollen ankle exposed, along with the black monitor strapped around it.

The monitor rang with a long, low beep, a warning that the battery had run out.

"Playing deaf, too, huh?" Mom barked, slamming her bag onto the couch.

"Look at Abigail! She went out to celebrate her birthday and still knew to bring me my slippers when she got back. And you? All you know to do is lie around and play dead! What did I tell you when I left? 500 crunches—did you do them or not?"

She strode toward me. I floated in front of her, spreading my arms as if I could stop her. "Don't come any closer, Mom. I look terrible right now—really, really terrible. You'll be scared."

I knew how much she hated ugly things. Once, I had gotten a tiny pimple on my face, and she had made me wear a mask for three days. With how I looked now, she would be completely disgusted.

However, my soul resembled a gust of wind. She walked straight through me and scattered it. Furious and indifferent, she stopped beside my body and kicked my calf. "Get up now!"

That kick landed on flesh that felt as hard as stone, and she froze for a moment. "Huh? Did you tie something onto yourself?"

Her anger flared even higher, and she assumed I was trying to cheat my way out of doing crunches. "You've learned a trick or two now, haven't you? Trying to cheat your way out? Let me see what you wrapped yourself up in!"

She bent down and grabbed the thin blanket covering my body. In the air, I screamed, "No!"

The blanket was pulled away.