My Mother Refused to Reconstruct My Corpse

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When the semi-truck crushed me into a bloody pulp, my mother was busy attending a baking class with my cousin.

I had managed to dial her number, hoping for a miracle.

But all I got was her impatient voice screaming through the line.

"What are you shouting for! Toby distracted Leo and he burned his hand because of your call! Did you do that on purpose?"

The next day, as a world-renowned reconstructive mortician, she was tasked with fixing a body that had been mangled beyond recognition.

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