“Thanks, you too.”

She closed the door and turned the box in her hands. She thought it’d be bigger.

Walking over to the kitchen, she grabbed a pair of scissors to cut the packaging tape and set the box on the table. She pulled everything out and arranged the items side by side besides the box. Apart from the packing peanuts there was an instruction manual, 10 compression bags, a set of branded stickers, and the vacuum, which wasn't any bigger than a hair dryer.

She fit two sets of sheets and a beach towel inside the first bag. Then, she closed the opening, bringing the two plastic lips together. She snapped the pressure-activated clasp to activate the exothermic reaction and heat melted them together, forming a waterproof cul-de-sac. Then, she located the other opening on top of the bag. It was a lot smaller, built like a circular one-way valve. Beth had seen something like it before when she was younger. Her mom used to compress warmer clothes when winter was over so that it wouldn’t take as much room during the summer.

She grabbed the vacuum, pushed it firmly against the bag and turned it on. To her surprise, it made almost no sound. Nothing more than a soft hum as the air was gradually being sucked out of the bag. Then, it changed gear. The hum intensified and the machine started shaking. Inside the bag, it's like the sheets were being compressed by a thirty ton weight. They shrunk from all sides at once, becoming smaller and smaller until they were the size of a slice of bread.

Beth stopped the vacuum and pulled it off from the bag. She was impressed. She didn't understand any of the technology behind the design, but she was definitely happy with the result. The plastic puck even seemed to weigh less than it did a minute ago.

She grabbed a few other things for her next bag. Mostly winter gear ; gloves, hats, scarves, but also her boots. She placed everything neatly, trying her best to fit them together like Tetris pieces and sealed off the bag. She was ready to activate the vacuum when she noticed something dark to her right : another pair of gloves. Dang it. She looked at the bag, then at the gloves, and at the bag again. She sighed.

Clawing at the heated seam, she dug her nails in between the plastic to strategically tear it apart. She managed to pry it open ever so slightly before it cooled completely, leaving her nothing but a small hole in which to slide her gloves. She folded them in half and squeezed them in her palm, forcing her left hand in the narrow opening.

Beth pushed the gloves in-between her ski coat and pants until her arm couldn't reach any further. Satisfied, she tugged. Her brow furrowed. She tugged again. The warm plastic of the bag had curved inward when she inserted her hand, creating a series of shards that poked her skin every time she tried to pull out her hand. She reached for the scissors but stopped a few inches above the bag. Was she really about to cut a 15$ bag?

She shifted on her seat and brought her free hand to her arm, trying to press down on her skin to prevent it from being harpooned in place. She thought of using cooking oil, or even soap to lubricate her limb, but she hadn't gone to the grocery store yet. Literally all she had was microwave food.

She stood up and sighed, leaning against the table. Maybe if she pushed on the bag itself, she could aim the air trapped inside towards the seam and enlarge it, just enough for her arm to slip right out. Grabbing the vacuum handle, she pushed down as hard as she could to no avail. She gave up. Leaning back against the table, she looked out at the busy street through the kitchen window. People on the sidewalk hurried past each other in the heavy rain. She prepared herself to metaphorically add 15$ to the sewer drain out on the street.

Suddenly, she heard the vacuum going in second gear.

“No, no, no, no!!”

Her arm still stuck inside the bag, she saw the plastic crumple under the vacuum’s strength. She tugged once more, the one-way opening gashing her skin as she tried to rip it out by sheer force. Blood gathered on her arm where the bag dug into her flesh. Panicking, she threw herself at the scissors and knocked them off the table.

“Fuck! No, no, no please!”

The packing bag was ever shrinking, already a quarter of its initial size and showing no signs of slowing down. She could no longer feel her hand, stuck halfway in-between her winter clothes. She reached for her phone, and fumbled through her contacts to call her dad.

"Come on, pick up…"

She jammed her phone between her shoulder and ear, dropping on her knees to retrieve the scissors and jolted upwards again. She froze.

"Yellow?" Silence. "Beth, are you there?"

"Umm.. hi dad, sorry I didn't mean to call. I must've dialed in my pocket by mistake."

"No worries. How's everything going? Are most of your things unpacked yet?"

"I'll.. well… I'll call you back dad, alright?"

"Sure. Take care honey bunny."

"Love you dad…"

Her phone slid out of her hand and banged hard on the tiled floor, but she didn't care. Her eyes were fixed on the vacuum, which had finished its packing cycle and now sat quietly on the table. Just as before, the bag had shrunk down to the size of a hockey puck, downsizing everything it contained. It hung loosely off of her arm, three inches below her elbow. She reached for it and the connection snapped.

She passed out.

—---------

"I understand the words you're saying. What I'm telling you is that nothing seems out of the ordinary to me."

"But.. there's no way.."

They turned towards the x-ray again and he pointed at details on the shadowy translucent image.

"Like I told you, x-rays can mainly see bones. That's the humerus in your upper arm, that's your elbow, then we see your stump. We can even see where the orthopedist cut your bones."

"But it happened two hours ago I'm telling you! It's impossible!"

"Look, I'm not a radiologist, but this picture is pretty standard so I don't know what else to tell you. Apart from the superficial gashes the nurses took care of, there’s no open wound, no bleeding, to me this looks like a completely healed amputation. At the very least a few months old.”

“I.. Um…” She looked at the x-ray, then down at her arm, fidgeting with the edge of her band-aid with her nails.

He set his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “Have you had psychological counseling since your amputation? I can refer you to Psychiatry and within a few weeks you’d have an appointment I’m sure of it.”

“You think I’m crazy? This..” She pointed at her stump before realizing how crazy she must be sounding. “Yeah, I’ll take the referral.”

“Good. I’ll start the paperwork right away. Good day."

He left her alone and she sat on the bed's crinkly paper, pinching the skin of her stump between her fingers. She bent her arm and secured it close to her chest, like it was made out of glass. She looked around and stood up again, reaching for the door with her left arm. She scoffed.