She looked rather shy and nervous as she stepped into the café and looked around for a table. She waited patiently in the doorway for a little while and as a group got up to leave, she timidly sat in their now vacant seats.
Gently dropping her bag to the floor, she spotted a plastic shopping bag left underneath the table. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her before discreetly reaching for it. Taking a peek inside, she saw a dismembered human hand.
Interesting she thought, wrapping it back up and stuffing it into her own bag. She ordered herself a large latte and slice of carrot cake – eating them in peace as she watched people come and go around her. She didn’t feel so nervous anymore and was actually feeling rather content.
“Let’s have a look at you” she said to herself when she arrived back home a few hours later. She set her bag on the kitchen table and pulled out the plastic bag that contained the hand. The contents felt weird to touch and peering inside she saw jellified blood surrounding the dismembered extremity; just as weird to see. She went to put on a pair of vinyl gloves before unsheathing the hand from its bag.
It was most definitely the hand of a male, 30 to 35 years old she thought. A left hand; his dominate one it seemed. No fingerprints. these had been cut off with a blunt knife. The stump of his wrist had a neater edge to it, a sharper instrument used here, slicing right through the bone, veins and muscle tissue.
She admired the form and shape of it. Long artistic fingers, strong, soft skin. She didn’t have time to admire though. The skin would soon begin to turn black and decay if she didn’t carry out her usual procedures quickly.
She prepared the formaldehyde and a clear jar, cleaning the hand as best she could for display. When she had finished sometime later, she carefully lifted the jar and carried it to the top storey of her house. She placed it down gently in a space on her shelves that had been waiting to be filled.
Taking a step back she admired the collection of human hands that had been slowly developing over time. A tinge of sadness muddied her feelings of content completeness as she looked down at her own. One real, and one not.