I stare at myself in the mirror. I look pale, bloodless. Other than that, I look the same. I can describe the girl staring at me from the mirror as an anaemic version of my older self.

I am ardently gazing at my new physique when I hear a muffled sob. I know who it is but I don't acknowledge it. Its too early to let the burden of what just happened sink in and crush me.

I follow the sounds into my bedroom. I don't enter directly though. I hesitate a moment and peek in through the doorway. As expected, I see my ma sobbing heavily, clutching to my worn bedspread.

It breaks my heart to see her crying for me. I feel a wave of sadness swelling inside me, crashing against my ribs. And I can almost feel the pain inside me.

Ma doesn't notice me, though. Her heaving, doubled over frame sits facing away from the doorway. I gently enter, walk in a few steps and then abruptly stop. She hasn't noticed me yet.

So many 'what ifs' are swirling inside my head. The doubts make me nauseous. And at that moment, I am struck by the realisation that I can still feel. I never thought I would.

'But she needs me', says the tiny voice inside my head. 'Be there for her, its gonna be fine'. Okay. I steel myself up. But I do know that its for her that I am worried. We never know…

I cross the last few steps to my tiny bed and seat myself beside her. My bed doesn't compress under my weight. I feel as light as a feather. Ma still hasn't noticed me.

'Ma', I whisper.

She flinches but the action is so subtle that I can't say whether I imagined it. I try again, not losing hope.

'Ma, I am here', I say a bit more louder.

She clutches my bedspread closer and sobs even more heavily. She is saying something. Her sobs are muffling her words. All I can make out from her sobs are repeated, anguished 'whys'.

'Why….why...why…', she wails.

I don't know. I haven't yet thought about it. I haven't found an answer yet.

'I don't know, ma', I choke out the words.

I look at her closely. I can't believe how much she has changed in the span of a few days. I can't find any trace of the beautiful, capable, lively Ma I knew. All I see is a sad shell of her former self, hunched over as if she has aged thirty years more in the span of a mere three days. I snap out of my sad reverie realising Ma is trying to say something.

'Come back, my love, please, come back to ma', she says through her tears.

Now its my turn to flinch. I have come back. I am sitting right beside her. She still hasn't noticed me.

No, this can't be real. Its Ma. She will definitely see me.

I try again, desperation eating me out literally.

'Ma!! I have come back, ma. Your daughter has come back. Please, tell me you can see me. Please…'

And sobs gush out of me frantically, shaking my entire being. And to my horror, I realise, I cry dry. Sobs are coursing through my body but not a single tear drops out of my pale eyes.

Ma gets up, wipes away her tears and walks out of my room. She doesn't look back as, I know, she cant bear the weight of the memories lurking in my bedroom. I stare after her, still half sobbing.

I sit there like that for some time. Many realisations are clashing with each other to dawn upon me but I vehemently push them away. I cant push the thoughts away for too long though. And then I acknowledge the most difficult one.

A fresh wave of sobs threaten to break out, but I deliberately gulp them down. The acknowledgement is so depressing and alienating that, out of habit, I put my hand to my chest in shock. And then I realise yet another thing. My heart is not beating. The ultimate proof that I am dead. That I am a ghost.

And Ma will never see me again...

@Wordwhirls