The next morning, Emily and I had breakfast in bed. It was still odd seeing her with one hand, but in a good way. Seeing her struggle to cut off the top of an egg was endearing. She tried using the bottle of juice and the jar of jam as counter pressure and cut the egg with the knife in her left (and only) hand, but the egg kept falling over. Eventually, she used the elbow of her abbreviated right arm to press the egg against her side and cut with the butter knife towards her stump. It looked wobbly and she got some crumbs, butter, and egg yolk on her light blue pyjama top, but it worked. She let out a satisfied grunt and smiled at me.