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PARTS — a fiction
Why you should never match your limbs
I have a new hand. Much better than the old one. The skin used to crack along the knuckles when the weather was cold. Sometimes there would be blood, but it would always ache when the weather came in. No, this one’s much better quality. I had it shipped directly. Saved a fortune on import taxes. I don’t know why they charge so much anyway; it’s not as if we’re importing live animals or anything dangerous. These are just replacement parts. That’s all.
But everything has a cost, I suppose. Still, I’m glad I got around it this time. Had to meet the guy bringing it in at the coast. He said he wouldn’t dare carry it inland, which I think is preposterous. If you’re going to carry something across a damned ocean, you can take it a few miles on the B43.
It was quite a nice day, actually. Full sunshine, gentle breeze. Ended up a lovely day out. Chips and donuts on the sand and all that.
David was horrified, of course, when he found out the real reason we were there. As far as he had known we were just going on a visit to the beach to spend a little time together, as if that ever really happens anymore. Persuading him to wade on into the water for me and grab a package from a rather rough-looking guy in a rowing boat was a considerable effort. The way he looked at me when I opened it up there among the sunbathers was nothing short of unkind.
Of course, I couldn’t wait to try it on when I got home. Absolutely lovely thing. I don’t think it exactly matches the other one, but it’s nice to have a bit of variety. After all, if they were matching, nobody would know you had anything new. And that’s what we’re after, really — for other people to see something different about you. For them to look and see just who you really are.
Originally published on Tumblr
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