A Good Thing

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She called me from a plane, three hours before it landed.

"Will you come and meet me at the airport?" She sounded tired, she didn't sound herself. I thought about what her father had said, I wanted to ask her if she was sick.

"I'll come. What's wrong, are you ill?"

"You'll see. It's a surprise, it's a good thing."

She came through the arrivals gate, head held high and striding confidently but I could see the darkness under her eyes, the hollowness in her cheeks. Then I saw her arm was in a sling, bandaged to her side under her coat.

"Oh, my God! Lumi, what's happened to you?" I asked and hugged her. She winced a little but her smile was triumphant.

"Will you make me new legs?" She asked. "I want them to look like your hand, your beautiful hand, black and delicate and sinister."

I nodded, as mute and dumb as ever.

"And a matching arm?"

I put my arms around her again, checking her, feeling under her coat and hoping that I had misheard her, hoping that I was wrong. The sling her arm was in was empty. The sling was just holding the stump of her arm to her side. The rest of it had been amputated above the elbow.

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