The Number on the ScaleMature

I was about to forget them. Who needs them. I'll catch them later when they're not so captivated by the Creator of the whole ugly universe.

But then... I saw Tavie. At the doctor's office.

She had to stand on the scale.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Glorious victory.

She... Is she closing her eyes?

"Honey, would you like to see the number? You definitely don't have to."

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

 What?! Now you don't want to see the number?!

Yes you do, Tavie, look at it right now or you won't know if you're too fat. You're too fat. Come on. Look at the number.

She shook her head and smiled at the wall with her eyes shut. I shrank to the floor. What had I done wrong! I had done everything right....

Oh. Almost forgot. God.

I quietly watched her drive home, contemplating my next move. Think about the number on the scale, Honey... You gotta find out what it was. Go stand on the scale. You'll hate the number, but you know you have to do it.

She was listening... And entered the bathroom. Pocket knife still on the counter from two nights previous.

The scene was already delightful.

Until....

That stupid girl picked up the scale and gently set it in the trashcan, followed by the knife. First of all, Darling, that's a waste of money you need t-

Tavie! Listen to me!

She snapped a pic and sent it to Lucia.


The End

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