Living Death.
 part 03 // FabStories
     "You are going to look beautiful, trust me," my mother tells me.
     Now where have I heard that before, I think to myself sarcastically. I ponder this for a moment, then tune in to my mother as she is getting ready several products of make-up. I watch her for a few seconds, then say, "You know what? I'm just going to go to Starbucks...I just want some time to myself. Plus, I can get ready later."
     But, strangely, she doesn't seem to hear me. I repeat what I say, but she goes on saying, "Are you okay? You don't seem excited for your one and only sixteenth birthday."
     What the heck, I wonder. I wave my hands in front of her face crazily, but she doesn't react. Doesn't even flinch. I even try smacking her clean across the face, but she completely ignores me. I shriek in her ear multiple times, desperate for an answer, but she continues speaking, "Oh, get in the party mood!"
     I sigh, exasperated. I rise from my chair, and exit the room, rolling my eyes. She continues talking to an empty space, where I think I'm supposed to be. Then it hits me. I'm back; I'm back from my death and exactly on the day of my death. Only everything is frozen in time, nothing changing. Does that mean I'm going to have to die again, I think. The asnwer would most likely be yes, but I block that thought from my mind.
     I grab my coat and slip it on, then start walking to Starbucks. It was close to home and very familiar to me, since I went there almost every day. When I was alive, that is. The thought of hot chocolate and curling up in a comfy chair makes me cheer up a little. On the way there, I think of why I could possibly be returning to the day of my  death when I had just died...maybe punishment?
     But that doesn't make sense, I say to myself as I swing Starbuck's doors open.  Surely there would be a more important reason. I randomly take my hot chocolate, since no one could hear me anyways, and immediately take a sip when I have it; the sweet taste exploding across my tongue. I hold onto it tightly and turn around quickly, rather excited to sit down and give my aching legs a rest. But I was just a bit too quick, and ended up colliding with a boy about my age. Everything felt as if it was slow motion: I watched my hot chocolate slip out of my hands and the contents spilling all over us, and we ended up crashing onto the floor, me on top. I stared into his sea green eyes, and start wondering whether he'll react to me or not, since I was dead. But he surprised me. 
     "I'm really sorry," he says, trying to rise from underneath me. I apologize and get off, not once taking my eyes off him. He bends down to help wipe off a bit of hot chocolate that got on my shirt.
     But just as he was bending over, I felt his lips accidentally brush against my cheek, sending tingles down to my toes.
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