A Ten

A small child learns his numbers, every day after school his mother would ask the same thing.

“How are you today?”

Every day, he would respond the same way.

"I'm a ten!"

 She would be ecstatic; that one comment, knowing her son was feeling like a ten would put her over the moon.

The years go by and as time goes on, sometimes he would be an eleven. This filled the mother with even more joy; somehow he's managed to surpass even the ten he was at before.

Things must be going well.

As time goes on, his responses would vary from just the regular number system to something a little more nuanced.

“I’m better than I was yesterday."

These comments were still welcomed by the mother; despite the number system not being used as frequently, she felt the same sense of pride when he said this.

To her, the meanings were the same anyway.

Time, like time always does, flickers past.

One day he approaches his mother, after what was most likely a particularly great day, with something he has never said before.

“I’m ninety-nine!”

This surprises the mother so she asks the obvious question.

 “Why is it so high today?”

The boy replies promptly with his reason.

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m better than I’ve felt in a long time.”