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March 10, 2009
Lisa likes watching her mother's right hand splash-dance through the soapy side of the sink to the clear side, and the neat spin she puts on each plate when she tosses them to her father. He catches with his right hand, lifts his left leg, and balances each dish on his thigh while drying it.

Lisa admires how the vacant left sleeves of their shirts match and wishes she, too, was missing an arm. She has her dad's eyes, they say, and her mom's hair. But when will her arm go away, so she doesn't feel like such a mutant?