A Day and a New Palm


The palms of my hands look different. The squiggles are something else, something foreign and I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. So I make myself some tea and stare at the lines some more as the water heats up. Is this normal for palms to change? No, of course not. Someone would have said something to me. I crave doughnuts as I dip a tea bag into the hot water. I pull the drawer open and select from the pile of mismatched silverware. It’s not the biggest spoon but it’s not the smallest either. I grab the canister of sugar and add two scoops to my tea. Since my palms are different I decide to check my belly button. Just in case. Maybe all of me has changed. Nope, it’s still the same. Then I decide to get up and check my arm pits in the…

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