Monday morning, Amanda was sitting at the table, reading the latest fashion magazine, sipping some coffee. Only to soon be interrupted.

"Amanda!" A door opened. "Have you seen my arms?"
"Your what?" Amanda turned to look at Ciara, standing in the doorway.
"Uh, my arms?" She shook her shoulders, emphasizing that was all she had. Exposed clearly by the tanktop she slept in.
"Wherever you left them, I guess."
"That sure helps, ugh."

Ciara tore through the apartment as best she could, kicking up sofa cushions and laundry piles.

"Hold on," Amanda said, being thoroughly bothered. "I don't think you'll find them like that."
"I already looked in my room!"
"At least the best that you could manage, right?"
"Yeah."
"What do you even need them for anyway?"
"Uhm, I have a fucking test to write?"
"Uhhh, okay. Can't you write with your feet yet?"
"No!"

Amanda stood up and approached Ciara, turning her around and holding onto her shoulders.
"Hey!"
"Here, sit down." She was directed to the low coffee table on the living room floor, into a crosslegged pose.
"Should I get you some cereal?"
"What's this all about? I need to find my arms!"
"Just relax, okay? I'll get you some food and look for your arms while you eat."
"Sigh. I'll do my best. Thanks Amanda."

Ciara was soon left to another "practice session" in using her toes to hold simple objects.

"Did you check your lavatory?"
"Yes!"
Amanda checked anyway. Opening every cupboard and drawer, even if they were comically small for a full set of limbs.

She then went through the rest of Ciara's room, going through the same procedure.

Part way through, she took a peek at Ciara in the living room, her feet levered on the small table, one foot holding the bowl steady, the other foot bringing the spoon to her mouth. The sound of flakes falling onto the table and floor were quiet, but unmistakeable.

"Just another stupid trend." Amanda thought to herself. She already hated wearing high heels for the sake of "dressing up" but she thought this was a tad hyperbolic.

After some more time spent searching, a familiar clink was heard.

"Well?" Ciara asked, holding the empty bowl and spoon in her toes, hopping towards the kitchen.
"Nope. You should really keep track of your things. Especially your body parts."
"Shut up! I was tired last night!"
"What were you even doing?"
"Studying!"
"Without your arms?"
"You don't need arms to read Greek history!"
"Fine, fine. Do you need help bathing?
"C'mon Amanda! I've been doing this for two weeks now! I can do it fine!"
"Yeah, but very slow. You probably can't afford to miss the 10:30 bus. You sure?"
"...Fine."
"I need a wash myself."

Amanda turned on the shower to get it warming up, and came back into the bedroom to disrobe. Ciara had already managed to get her loose-fitting trousers off, now she was trying to removed her t-shirt by using her chin to stretch the neckline out.

"Gosh, what are you doing?" Amanda laughed. Ciara just pouted in response.

Her t-shirt came off quickly, and her panties pulled down.

For a second, Amanda looked briefly at Ciara's naked body. She couldn't tell if she appeared skinny because of her missing arms, or because of a different diet. She had definitely slimmed down in the last month, but not enough to make any alarm bells to go off. Still, she was fitting into the smaller sizes. She was skinny, for sure, but no one could call her anorexic, not yet at least.

Even more strange to Amanda was her missing arms. Sure, it had gotten popular for women to remove parts of their body in the last few years, but it was just another one of those things that made her feel like an alien. Everyone seemed to be getting into the limb-removal fad except her. She didn't feel that she should judge, it wasn't her body.

"In you go."
"Ugh." Ciara was a little embarrassed, to say the least.

Amanda stood behind Ciara as the water poured over the both of them, starting on shampoo. It was good, for Ciara, that she had very short hair, barely longer than the average male, but undoubtedly feminine.

Amanda quickly soaped herself up, then Ciara, bringing her hands all over her slim, armless body.

"Oh, do that again."
"Do what?" Ciara asked.
"The thing with your shoulder blades."
"This?"

Ciara spread her shoulder blades, which looked especially strange when she had no arms to make the move with. Usually, you'd have to put your hands out in front of you, hold them together, and use the right back muscles to do it.

"How the hell?"
"It's something anyone can do, really."
"Thought you needed arms for it?"
"Nah."

Amanda continued to lather her. All Ciara could do was allow it to happen. She could bathe herself on her own at this point, but she was still too slow, and would have to carefully position a few poufs. She still wasn't flexible enough to wash her hair on her own. It was no surprise she was in need of her arms.

"OK, out."

Amanda quickly put on a bath robe after a fast dry. She wrapped a large towel around Ciara and gave her a proper pat down.

"Sit."

She got a blowdryer and waved the hot wind around her head as she pushed her fingers through it.

"Right, what are you wearing today?" She asked her, in front of her wardrobe.
"Uhhhh. Shit, that's the hardest part."
"Choosing an outfit is more difficult than using your feet to wash your face?"
"That's a rather straightforward task by comparison!"

She was soon wearing what were apparently a 400 quid pair of shorts, and what could have been described as a thin turtleneck which exposed not only her shoulders, but most of the sides of her ribcage.

"Alright Ciara. Good luck on your test..." Amanda said, putting the bag around Ciara.
"Thanks for everything this morning... But I'm fucked for that test you know."
"You'll be fine. The prof will understand."
"Whatever, thanks."

She turned to the door, reaching her foot up to open it, but something caught her eye.

"Oh fuck me!"
"What, what is it?"
"Ugh, look."

There, hanging from the shoe rack, was a light bag holding Ciara's detached arms, wrapped in long, enveloping thin fabric to make sure re-attachment could be temporary.

"Hahahaha!" All Amanda could do was laugh.
"Well, that's just great. Can you put them in my bag please?"
"Why not just stick them on?"
"For the last hour, I'd assumed that I'd be attending a test and using my feet. For all I know, it might be on a bubble sheet. I'll decide when I get there."
"Sure. Seya at lunch."

With that, Amanda dried herself off, and got into her "not-going-anywhere" clothes and resumed her reading of one of Ciara's clothing mags. One of which had a headline that read:

"Devon Moreau's new summer line innovates yet again." Along with several images of couture models with varying degrees of limb deficiency.

Amanda could only "pssh" with befuddlement.