A Helping Hand

Did I tell you I saw Craig the other day? He walked in here with that new model he picked up at the show downtown last year. She came in here to get some work done. He just waltzed right past me, like I wasn’t even here.

No. I didn’t say anything. What’s the use? Sure, we had fun together back in the day, but even then, he never really listened to me.

Don’t get me wrong. They looked great together. I’m not jealous, I swear. I’m happy for him. Really.

She’s young and much more flexible looking than I ever was. Craig always liked the flexible ones. And don’t even get me started on those curves.

It’s just, I always thought we had a special connection, Craig and I. We did everything together. I mean everything! I know I’m a little blocky around the edges, but memories have got to count for something, right? She may have stamina and looks, but I’ve got wisdom and experience.

Ah, who am I kidding? I’ve had my time. Now I’m just another out-of-date biotech prosthetic arm—yesterday’s model—sitting here on a shelf while younger iterations are out there enjoying their time in the sun. But they won’t last forever either. It’s just a matter of time before even those fresh off the line become obsolete. They’ll soon end up on this shelf—my shelf—obsessing over the people who used and threw them away. Such is the nature of those occupying the pre-owned parts department here at the Biotech Limb Clinic.

I’ll help the new throwaways get over their misery, of course. It’s only fair seeing as their misfortune helps me to overcome mine. Besides, everybody needs a helping hand.