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Weekly Contest #323
These hands are not my hands. I have never used them before. These lines, scars and abrasions are unfamiliar to me.They move when I command them to and my mind breaks a little. These arms are not my arms. They bulge horrifically against the restraining straps, creaking leather, brawny and terrible. I do not recognize their breathtaking strength. I made… I made… Shoes? I made shoes. My despairing cry is not my voice and a heart deep within this chest sinks as I wonder what remains. What is left of me? I turn desperately, looking to see - wi...
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