Shouldergeist

by Ari Collins


“Can this phantom limb third arm thing of yours, like, touch anything?” She sipped our shitty frat house beer.

I shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like it bumps something. If I turn too fast. Mostly it just itches like fucking crazy.”

She furrowed her brow adorably. “Nice meeting you.”

I stammered as she walked away. Something had shaken my “hand.”