Zero Point Three

I walked onto the bathroom tiles where the air was noticeably cooler. The tempered glass plate of the digital scale rested flush against the grout lines. I stepped squarely onto the platform with both plush feet. A crisp beep cut through the quiet room. Pale blue numerals blinked awake beneath the glass surface—0.3 kg—flickering once before settling into stillness. I shifted my weight slightly from left to right, waiting to see if the number would move, but the light abruptly blinked out into black. I remained standing in the center of the dark glass, observing the reflection of the ceiling light.