Mask

With my head leaning against the back of the couch and my eyes rolling, I savored with horror the taste of chemical cheese that had invaded my mouth.

Not even the repeated glasses of water I drank, after finishing dinner, could mitigate the taste I now felt.

A fleeting image appeared before my eyes as I wailed: my personal chef, dressed entirely in white and sporting a clichéd moustache, bringing me on a gleaming silver tray a lobster for dinner.

How I loved lobster...

With regret, I recalled my glorious childhood years, when I ate without worrying about anything but doing things that deserved my father's approval.

However, that had long since been left behind. With the weakening of my love for swimming and the increasing seriousness with which I took that sport, my diet became strict to the extreme.

I sighed, peeled myself off the back of the chair and rested my elbows on my thighs.

My feet were barely touching the floor....

In the kitchen, she was surrounded by towers of dishes and pots and pans at her sides, humming something I couldn't recognize as she washed them.

Between her and me, sitting on the too-fluffy couch, the various garments strewn everywhere and the garbage about to explode made me blink uncomfortably.

I couldn't bear to have such a mess in my presence, and the worst part was that the main culprit didn't even look embarrassed.

Driven by my love of tidiness and a pent-up frustration, I got off the couch and began collecting the clothes that flooded the attempted living room.

They were women's and kid's shirts, bras and panties, stockings, jeans, mostly belonging to the culprit of all the mayhem.

I gingerly grabbed them by the edges with only my thumb and forefinger. Who knew what things I might catch if I wasn't careful?

Avoiding using my nose to breathe, I hurriedly laid the clothes on the couch I had just gotten up from and with my eyes, rummaged through the bathroom where I was supposed to find some laundry basket.

Thus I was forced to learn in my brief moment of independence.

I used to have my servants who left the whole mansion as good as new and well ordered, so it was impossible for me not to do the same in any situation.

A cold light coming out of a room door, contrasting with the warmth of the attempted living room, caught my attention.

I ignored the smallness of the place and the possible claustrophobia it might cause me and walked into the white room.

I thanked God when I walked in and the first thing I saw was a couple of white plastic laundry baskets piled up. They were completely empty.

I grabbed them, but before I went back to where the mess was, I took a deep breath.

The happy image of her still humming and moving her body as if at any moment she would start dancing instead of washing the dishes gave me even more frustration.

"You... how dare you...?"

I was about to abandon the mission and rebuke her loudly for being distracted while a task was being performed, but I managed to restrain myself by biting my lips.

I couldn't give in to my impulses so easily, of course not. Besides, leaving a job half done? It was impossible, inadmissible and wrong.

As my father used to say, "Doing something half-heartedly only shows mediocrity; we should not settle for less than the best."

Either you were the best or you were the worst.

So I kept silent and carefully placed the dirty clothes in the baskets, trying to keep my focus even though she was still unfinished, despite the minutes that had already passed.

How was it possible that this apartment didn't have something as basic as a dishwasher?

Back in the bathroom, after putting everything in its place and about to leave, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye that made me stay longer than I would have liked.

Above the only sink that would fit in such a place was an opaque mirror, and in front of it were blue plastic steps.

Would these steps be intended for the original owner of this body?

I went upstairs and looked at my current face for the second time since I came into this world.

The last time I had seen myself was in the dark of night and in an unclear way because, after all, I only glimpsed a mere reflection.

The first thing that stood out was the striking fire orange color that adorned my curls. Just below, my green eyes and freckles were clustered on and around my nose. Then, in the area of my mouth, chubby, red-tinged cheeks accompanied the new me.

It felt so unbelievable and truly impossible, as if I had a mask attached to my real face.

I still remembered my black hair, my gray eyes, my big nose and my total lack of cheeks.

I raised both hands and repeated what I once tried when I thought this was all a dream. I pinched, squeezed and pulled at my skin without holding back my strength.

Maybe, and just maybe, I had accepted this new reality too quickly. A sort of test and it was time to get out, right...?

Or was I really losing my mind, because the pain was coming on strong as it was supposed to and as it had last time.

"Hahh... Hahh... Hahh..."

Why wouldn't the mask come off?

"¡Get off me!," I ordered, while pulling the annoying curls that had stuck to my sweaty forehead.

Suddenly, something bright began to radiate from the hands I was using to get rid of the mask.

"What is this?!"

It was as if my hands were transforming into light.

"Mom, mom, mom!"

At the unfamiliar and terrifying event, I instinctively called out to my mother.

She arrived quickly, so quickly that, frightened, I fell backwards, but she reacted swiftly to help me.

"Nate, what's going on?!"

She stopped my fall and asked as she saw the desperation in my eyes.

"L-look, look!"

I showed her how they glistened with the intensity of the sun. She instantly closed her eyes, but strangely, sighed in relief at the same time.

The strangeness persisted as she hugged me like I was a teddy bear.

What was happening to this world, my God?

...