I was on my way out the door, headed to work when it started. My purse hit the floor spilling out most of its contents and then as I was bending over the dog Betsy ran out the door.

"Dammit," I said, checking to make sure my keys were still in my hand before closing the door. It was then I realized that my left arm wasn't on. I mean, it wasn't attached. It had just fallen off, right at the shoulder, plonk. No wonder my purse had fallen. But that didn't have time to sink in yet.
Betsy was already halfway across the lawn. I had to go after her, or I was sure she'd chase the next car that came down the road. I left my arm on the floor there, and ran after the dog, catching her just as she made it to the street.

"C'mon," I said, pulling on her collar. She heeded a bit turned around, and then saw the squirrel eating from the birdfeeder.

She took off like a rocket, although I held on as hard as I could. Didn't help. It occurred to me passively, seeing the dog bolt away, that now my other arm was also unattached. So this was not only a bad day, but the worst day of my life.

Actually, I thought, as I just sat there mutedly watching my day and my body go to pieces, this was not as bad as it could have been. I was not gushing blood or screaming in agony the way you'd usually expect a person to after their arms fall off their body. And maybe it was just my imagination, but I could still feel the keys in my left hand, my right hand clenched around the dog collar, my elbow bouncing violently on the ground. I let go of the dog. She'd come back or she wouldn't. Whatever.

As calmly a I could, I walked up to where my arm was lying in the grass. I carefully prodded it with my foot. Again, I could feel the tap of my sandal against it. My fingers clenched and unclenched, responding to my will.

"Holy fuck," I said. Those were the only words that seemed appropriate.

The dog barked. She was at the door, wagging her tail with a happy expression that said, "That was a good chase, now let's go inside." I sighed. In order to open the screen door, I needed an arm, and my arms were… well I only had one for the moment. I carefully knelt down in the grass next to where I could reach myself, then inched my arm up my leg until I could grab hold of the waist of my skirt. With that as purchase I could almost touch my shoulder to where it was supposed to go. Almost. I swung my arm up and almost made it. Again, and again almost. I tried once again, this time swinging my body back a bit, but lost my grip on my waist. My arm flew up and bonked me in the head.

Everything got very very dizzy.

"Oh shit," I said. My field of view was suddenly much, much lower. I had a bugs-eye view of the lawn, and a piece of grass was tickling my nose.

I'd knocked my head off. You probably figured that out.

This is what they call a 'predicament.'

I don't know how long I just lay there. It was somewhere between a minute or an hour, but all I was doing for a bit was trying not to cry or scream. After that was over with — and I hadn't cried for the record — I decided the best thing to do was to try and reattach my arm which I could see a few feet off in the grass. My body, I figured, would be behind me since my head had tumbled off forward.

Moving my arm like an inchworm, I squirmed my way to where I could turn my head around. I found my body lying in the grass, sans arms, and inched my arm over. It took a bit of disorienting work, but I managed to get the shoulder to line up.

The next part is tricky to describe. As the severed ends met, a warm pleasurable sensation flooded my shoulder where the pieces had been separated. So falling apart? Somewhat painful and disorienting. Being put together again? Delightful. What I also noticed was the way the fusing looked — for a moment it was as if my shoulder were a viscous liquid of clay, gradually fusing once again into a solid joint.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position and crawled over back to pickup my head. Grabbing my head by the hair I tried to stuff my neck back together, but it wouldn't take. It was just hard with one arm, trying to support my head but move my hair out of the way proved too difficult, and either way, I could at least get my back inside and find my other arm.

My head swaying by my hair, I walked unevenly back to the door, my balance greatly impaired by the sudden motions my head would take with the twisting of my hair. I did my best to ignore most of what my head was feeling and walk to where the door should be. I felt my way up the steps and managed to fling the door open, banging my head on my knee in the process.

I spilled into the doorway, the dog following me at last. She licked my face before I could gather my head up.

"Ew," I said, lifting my head onto the kitchen table. I turned it back to face my body. I could see the shoulder of my left arm. I concentrated and flexed the arm. I could still feel and move that arm too. That was good. I went over and picked it up, then carefully reaffixed it to my shoulder. Another pleasurable sensation shot through my newly joined shoulder, this one a little less intense than the first.

It was confusing watching my body from across the room. It was easy to get left and right confused, and my depth perception was understandably off. I carefully walked back to the kitchen and picked up my head. I held it up to inspect my neck — the stump looked vaguely shiny, but was the same tone as my skin. Shouldn't I have had a spine, not to mention quite a bit of blood gushing out? Of course, I was still alive. So something was definitely different.

I walked down the hallway to the bathroom, carrying my head under my arm. Using the mirror, I carefully replaced my head, only for an intense sensation to shoot through my head and neck. I shook my head side to side to check it. It seemed to be attached.

Then I pulled on it. Oops. It came right off, easily. While I could attach it, it didn't seem like it was on there very tight. I stuck it back on, pushing hard. Too hard. My neck began to disappear, leaving my head stuck directly to my shoulders.

"Eep," I said, pulling on my head a bit until my neck was back to its normal length.

Back in one piece, I got my things together again. As I locked the door, I had the feeling it would be one of those days.

I was on my way to work. It's not a glamourous job or anything. I worked for this weirdo woman who runs a shop devoted to "Shamanry and Witchcraft." They sell all kinds of gimmicky glass beads supposed to ward off the evil eye, or to preserve 'inner radiance' and stuff. Basically, we sold cheap glass crap to crazy people. It was a good little racket.

On the bus I began to reconsider the 'racket' part of that. I was, after all, literally falling to pieces. I kept imagining that I could feel bits of me "loosening" but I was afraid to try lest I pull something off where everyone could see.

At last it was my stop. I stood up warily and slowly shuffled off the bus afraid to bump into anything.

Once on the street I made my way to the back door of the shop, down a trash-strewn alley and into an unlabeled steel door.

I was the only one there. Sighing, I unlocked the front door and plopped down in the seat, turning on the register and the lights. Surely there was something to stock on the shelves, but I need a moment to process things. There had to be something here that was … working. Somehow.

Oh, that was it.

I thought back to closing up the night before. Some 'supplements' had just come in, some for energy, some for improved sleep or concentration. I had taken one that I'd believed to be a stress-related potion.

"Melts away stress!" said the label. Melts. Melts.

With a bit of a worried feeling, I searched for the packaging. I found it in the wastepaper bin behind the counter.

"With Dr. Roselin's magical melt-away stress relief, relax in a way as never before. Can be used as a meditative aid as well as a way to reform a tired body. Try it with massage or use your imagination! The opportunity for stimulative relaxation are only limited by your imagination. Effects of one potion last up to three days, be advised. Also try Dr. Roselin's special solvent for the ultimate in liquid relaxation."

I waited a while after that, but my curiosity got the better of me. My joints began to feel looser and looser, especially my hips. I pulled my skirt up a bit behind the desk, and with my hands around my right thigh, I pulled.

My leg popped off. With a grin, I set it on the desk in front of me. I repeated this with my other leg, laying it next to its counterpart.

That was when my first customer came in. A woman in her early 40s or so, I'd seen her a couple times before. Her hair was just starting to get a hint of grey, but it suited her warm manner. Either she didn't notice my legs, or she ignored them. It occurred to me that she couldn't see my lower half behind the sales counter, so I simply sat there, as she puttered around the store.

When she finally came up to the register with her purchase, she only looked at my legs quizzically and then commented to me, "They look real!"

"They are," I said, and she laughed. I couldn't blame her.

When she'd left, I tried to figure how this was supposed to be "relaxing". I suppose there was the nice feeing of being rejoined. That could be relaxing. And I did feel a bit like I was lying down. I removed my legs from their conspicuous position on the counter and lay them down behind it. I could wheel myself around on the chair pretty well, and besides, I had something else in mind.

My waist was starting to loosen up. Without entirely meaning to, I grabbed the sides of my hips and it slipped off. I slid down a few inches to rest on the cross section of my stomach, but my intact body ended right there.

I rotated my butt over and sat it on the counter, giving it an inspection. I hastily snatched it from the counter as I heard the door open. Another customer, this time a goateed man who came in once a week but scarcely said a word. He gathered a few herbs from a list, then picked out a couple tinctures and wordlessly paid for them, although he squinted at me oddly in a "what's-up-with-you" way.

Hearing my boss' car pull up outside, I hastily grabbed my hips and shoved them back on, followed by my legs. I was still the throes of an intensely pleasurable sensation shooting though my whole rejoined lap as she came in the door. She looked at me disinterestedly and asked if there were any messages. I told her no and she went upstairs to her office and closed the door.

The next part happened on my lunch break. There's this cafe down the street, I like to get lunch there because you can sit outside. Well, I sit down and get a drink from my favorite server, a cute guy named Andy, and that's when the feeling came back. This time it was my face.

"Oh shit," I muttered, as I got up and ran to the bathroom. Once inside, I went over to the mirror where I could see something was … off. My nose was crooked. And one of my eyes was just starting to slip. I grabbed my nose and tried to reorient it, but it came right off in my hands. Then my eyes fell off, followed by my mouth and ears.

Talk about disorienting. At least I was leaning over the sink so everything gathered there. I picked up my eyes and held them in my hands, using them to scan the countertop for the rest of everything. I gathered my face into a pile and tried to stick my eyes back on. The stuck but only just so. I pressed them into the right place, and over a couple minutes I was able to reassemble my face pretty much like it should be.

I came back out to find Andy had just come with a bowl of soup.

"Thanks," I said, sitting down. I grabbed the spoon and went to take a sip. My nose tumbled off of my face and landed in the soup.

Andy looked a little stunned as I fished it out, calmly as I could. I looked up at him giggling nervously.

"Yea," I said. "I'm falling to pieces today." I sounded the way you'd expect a girl to when her nose is off. I dried my nose off in my napkin and stuck it back on.

And then I sneezed it right off again. It went rolling across the table and landed on the floor.

"I gotcha," said Andy, reaching down and picking it up. He set it back down on the table.

"Thanks," I said. I left it there while I finished my soup.

He came back a few minutes later with the sandwich I'd ordered. I stuck my nose back on, this time it seemed a bit more solidly attached. I finished my lunch without further incident, but he brought the check it began all over again. This time the feeling began around my jaw and spread through my whole face. I reached up just in time to feel my whole face coming loose like a mask.

"Wow, you really are falling apart," said Andy.

"Yea, sorry. Uh-oh. I'm about to need some help. My hands—" I didn't finish, but I felt both of my hands suddenly disconnect at the wrist. And then my feet at the ankles. Followed by me knees and elbows.
In short, I completely came apart at the seems. It was what I'd been afraid of that day. And in front of Andy too. I liked him, he was so professional and always cheerful and pleasant.

But being the nice guy he was, he gathered me up on a couple chairs, and helped me get everything back where it should have been. I left him a nice tip and blushing, returned to work. How was I going to make it through the rest of the day? Let alone three?