When Mia wakes up, she can’t feel her left hand. That isn’t too odd; everyone has slept wrong at some point or another—passed out in a strange location or in an awkward position, and one part of the body or another falls asleep from a lack of circulation. Even just sitting in one spot for…Continue Reading “idle hands”
Before my organs were stolen I was somebody. Before my memories were defiled I was somebody. Maybe I was feared. I sit alone in a crowded air-conditioned subway car studying my shriveled hands. The seats adjacent to mine are conspicuously unoccupied. No one wants to suffer the indignity of being seen (or photographed) in the…Continue Reading “I Used To Be Somebody”