The Missing Arm

“Uhhh, we need to talk.”

“Okay. I know, but I’d like to hear your take.”

“There was a hand in the small of my back.”

“Yes, that’s normal for slow dancing.”

“But you’re missing your right arm. I could feel the stub when I put my hand on your shoulder, how can there be a hand there?”

“The motor cycle accident took my arm and embedded a piece of metal in my brain. They can’t get at it. It doesn’t bother me, but it gives me the ability to do that.”

“That what? Be a little clearer here. None of this makes any sense.”

“I have a phantom arm. It’s not uncommon for amputees to feel a phantom arm, but I can use mine. I can move things and do it through walls. All I have is my arms reach though.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.”

“Show me...my god...the glass is floating.”

“No, I’m lifting it. Here, take it.”

“I can feel your hand...uhhhh, you touched my face.”

“I brushed your hair back.”

“What else can you do?”

“It has the strength my normal arm had, but my body doesn’t feel any strain. A lot of use does tire me so it’s using energy from me. I can unlock doors without a key.”

“Do you use it to...”

“I don’t. I’m not a thief. It’s difficult not using it though, it frightens people. Hiding it from you for three weeks has been a challenge.”

“I understand...you don’t have to hide it from me any more, it doesn’t frighten me.”

“I was hoping. You readily accepted my missing arm, can you accept my invisible one?”

“Yes. I like it.”

“Maybe we could think of a good use for it?”

“We can try. How about using it to...”