Three Days of Happiness

I just wanted to end this and get out of here. Out of this shop. Out
of this life.
“You can perform a transaction up to three times,” the woman said.
“Which is to say, you can sell your lifespan, health, or time twice
more.”
I left the shop with an envelope containing 300,000 yen.
Though I had no visual indication or any idea of how it was done, I
definitely felt like I’d lost my lifespan. I felt like upwards of 90
percent of something in the core of my body had left me.
They say a chicken can run around for a while with its head cut off -
and I imagine it must be a similar feeling. Maybe you could have
already called me a corpse.
I felt more impatient in a body that was all but guaranteed to die
without seeing 21 than one I expected to survive to 80. The weight
of a single second was greater than ever.
I had also unconsciously thought that “Hey, I’ve still got sixty years
left” back then. But with three months left, now I was attacked with
impatience - like I had to do something.
And yet for today, I wanted to go home and sleep. I was dead tired
from walking around all over. I wanted to think about what was
next after I was comfortably rested and could wake up feeling good.
On the way home, I passed by a bizarre man. He seemed to be in his
early twenties, and walked alone with a smile that seemed to span
his entire face, like he couldn’t help enjoying himself.
It extremely aggravated me.
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