“You know you got it, shoot, if it makes you feel good”
The breeze rustled the pages of my newspaper, and I folded it over to keep it readable. With the paper not dominating my sight, I noticed the woman sitting across the way staring at me. I raised my eyebrows, asking the universal question of, “yes, may I help you?”
She blinked, then blushed. “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean – but, is that your…finger? On the ground?”
I looked, and sure enough, my left pinkie was on the dirt, itself getting a curious stare from a pigeon. “Shoo!”
I leaned over to pick up the missing digit. It wasn’t too dirty, though I’d wash it later. Blowing on it removed most of the dust, and I popped it into place, flexing and wiggling to make sure it was firmly attached. Well, for now.
“Thanks,” I said. “I would have noticed eventually, but it’s a lot easier to reattach than regrow.”
Then I waited, because I knew what was coming next.
“I mean, does that kind of thing happen…often?”
“Well, sometimes, yeah. It’s been small stuff, mostly. Fingers are the most common. Sometimes an ear. Once, my whole…” Now it was my turn to blush. “Well, you can imagine.”
“And they just reattach?”
“Generally, unless something happens. Then I have to regrow them. That’s more work.”
“Do they regrow the same?”
“Usually, though I can change things if I concentrate enough. For example, when my…you know…I made some improvements.”
She laughed, and walked over to sit next to me.
“What kind of improvements?”