[ WP ] Science has advanced to where we can predict the day and the month of our deaths , but not the year . Today is your potential death day .

Mum smiled faintly at me as I entered the room. Eyes too wide, leftover toothpaste in the corner of her mouth and one mismatched button the only mistakes in her otherwise flawless appearance. I smiled back as I sat at the table, scuffing my chair forward against the worn linoleum, cool and familiar against bare feet. One plate sat in front of me, two pieces of toast, one poached egg. Mum ’ s sheepish glance seemed to apologise for the inadequate repast. I smiled my thanks, reaching up and gripping her thin wrinkled hand in mine, just the two of us, I wouldn ’ t have it any other way. 
 
 
 
 Her hand shook faintly as she poured me watery tea from her treasured porcelain teapot, still chipped where I had knocked it against the corner of the table those many years ago. The only time I had ever seen her angry with me, standing shrieking at me in this same familiar room. A small act of a careless child the final straw on a back already bowed beneath Dad ’ s recent death. She had hugged me later hugged and cried as she apologised. So strange at the time, a day of firsts, seeing that calm façade cracked wide revealing the worried and harried woman beneath. 
 
 
 
 I sipped gently at the tea, small sips to protect my mouth from the scalding brew. I wasn ’ t hungry. I still forced myself to pick at the food, conscious of the gesture made with the egg, a treat we could ill afford. It felt thick in my throat competing for space with the thick lump already in residence. Mum hovered while I ate, ready to jump and bring me anything I needed, ready in case I choked. The irony of choking on her special Passing Day breakfast too sad to contemplate. 
 
 
 
 I lay my knife and fork across the plate one half of a piece of toast still unfinished, the plate streaked with the congealed remains of that precious egg. I tossed back the dregs of tea and stood, moving to the lounge to pull on socks and boots. Again mum hovered hand fluttering near her throat, a nervous apparition in the corner of my eye. When I finished I stood and gazed frankly into mum ’ s familiar face, she stared back, damp glossed eyes seemingly trying to fix my every feature in her minds eye. I crossed the distance between us and wrapped my arms tight around her thin bony frame. She tucked her face into the crook of my neck her breath hot and moist against my skin. I felt a ragged breath drawn through her, thin arms squeezing me tight against her. A small whispered, “ be careful ” the only words that she could say. 
 
 
 
 I stepped away from her and grabbed my worn backpack from where it sat on the floor. Time to go, time to head for the work today. Hopefully a quiet uneventful day. I smiled at mum once last time as I moved to the door, smiled a half wry promise to take care as I stepped out of our small safe home.
