Less Than Human

                The figure reflected against the mirror that stared straight at felt alien to her.  She watched on as the skin around its mouth stretched out grotesquely and revealed a set of yellowing teeth. There it was again, practicing another hopeless smile. She had long ago already retreated into the depths of her skin, trying to put as much distance between herself and life. Her body continued to move as always, smiling at the people around her, working hard at it's job, the automatic routine that she had engraved into a husk by years of repetition. Days passed as she stared at a foreign life through a pair vacant eyes. Her soul had lost touch with the body, no longer able to feel anything anymore, her mind merely flickered through the scenes of the day as if watching a movie. What had happened to her? Why was she no longer satisfied with her life? Her life was fine: she had family, friends, and financial stability; there was absolutely nothing for her to be upset about. Yet every day she could feel herself become emptier as her emotions slowly faded away until all she could feel was exhaustion. And so, she buried herself away into the depths of her physical self, the only self the people around her could really see.

The End

“I had planned my entire life out when I was a child: I would graduate college with a science degree, work in a laboratory in a prestigious university, get married at 28, have two children: one boy, one girl, live in a buttercup yellow house with a red roof in a quiet suburban town, and die at the ripe old age of a hundred.”

“How did that work out for you?” asked Frank as he leaned back on the couch.

“Let’s just say my wacky plans never worked,” Amelia chuckled.

He let out a hearty laugh, “You seem pretty upbeat about that.”

“Well things never go the way I want them to, and I guess I’m finally seeing the humor in that. Being at the end of the line really puts things into perspective.”

Frank stood up and approached the bed. He grasped Amelia’s thin bony hand with one hand and held it against his chest as he tenderly stroked her face. A comfortable silence rested between the two as they listened the sharp beeping of Amelia’s heart.

Amelia squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to a hundred with you.”

“You’ve already filled my heart enough to last me a hundred years,” he replied, his gentle affection spilling over his words.

Amelia was on her death bed at the age of fifty.