Daniel woke to the soft chime of his mother’s phone alarm, the unfamiliar weight of her body settling around him like a tailored coat that didn’t quite fit yet. One day. That was all the swap allowed. He had decided, the night before, that he would not waste a single hour of it.

The house was quiet. His mother’s husband-his father in every practical sense-had already left for work. A note on the counter said he’d be home late. Daniel moved through the kitchen on bare feet that felt smaller, more careful. He started coffee first, the way she always did, measuring grounds for a full pot even though he was alone. While it brewed he made a simple breakfast: scrambled eggs, a slice of toast with a thin smear of butter, a small bowl of berries. Nothing elaborate. Just enough.

Before he sat down he stepped out onto the back porch, lit one of the slim cigarettes from the pack in her purse, and drew the smoke deep into lungs that already knew the habit. The first drag made his eyes water slightly; the second felt almost natural. He finished half of it, then came back inside, washed the multivitamin, the birth-control pill, and the pre-diabetes medication down with a glass of water, and ate while the coffee cooled to the temperature she preferred. He poured a second cup before he left the table.

Mid-morning he kept the appointment she had already booked. The salon was quiet on a weekday. He sat through the shampoo, the careful cut and blow-dry that left her hair soft and shaped the way she liked it, then the manicure and pedicure. The technician filed and polished without comment. Daniel watched the unfamiliar hands in the mirror-his mother’s hands-and practiced the small, precise movements she used when she gestured. By the time he left, the nails were a soft, respectable shade and the pedicure felt cool and finished under open-toed shoes.

At lunch he chose a café with outdoor seating so the cigarette would not trouble anyone. He ordered a light salad, iced tea, and a second coffee with sugar substitute. Between bites he smoked another cigarette, careful to keep the smoke drifting away from the neighboring tables. The coffee was strong; he finished it the way she always finished hers.