A Sum Too Late, 1+1=3

 She tells herself to think clearly! But she's super depressed. And she hasn't eaten anything all day. She's waiting past midnight for a big sum to land in her account. It came later that day—much later.

It was a sustainable amount, but her debts would swallow the once-in-a-lifetime sum whole. She had been bounced around in the bureaucracy of it all for 15 years and had received a tiny pension in exchange for her role as a patient. Some of it had come from working at a sawmill one summer, two months before high school. That was her last drop of income to expect before dreary years of waiting for life expectancy to run out—her quality of life running down even faster.

She is writing this now. She paid one 550-euro debt and ordered a smart scale to weigh herself, since the last one had worn down its broken feet and no longer showed accurately how her obesity affected her body's internal age. She had a lot of muscle, perfect bone mass, but that inner age didn’t seem fine.

Although, it's not like I drink water much. My plants get more water than me...

That’s one of her jokes, but she is right. Am I right?

If the mess around her could talk. She spent a lot of time in her bed. She'd need to change her bedding soon. Her scent was getting rather lonely, soaked up in those sheets she recognized as her own.