A couple of nights ago I was waiting to meet some friends at a cosy pub after a writing workshop. It’s thirsty business, this writing. I spied a bone-white leg projecting at a peculiar angle from the top of a nearby litter bin. Curiosity got the better of me and, looking to left and right as I approached the sight (well, who would want to be caught raiding a litter bin?), I yanked it free to have a closer inspection of my find by the light of a department store window.
It was exceedingly long and shapely and tapered off to a slim, perfectly formed foot with toes that looked as if they had had a recent manicure. Very attractive, but what was I going to do with it now? I didn’t want to be seen stuffing a leg back into the bin so I attempted to arrange my coat over the top of it thinking it might be less conspicuous. At that moment one of the other writers walked across the street and spied my antics. Was the third leg really that noticeable? Well, by her extreme reaction to the sight I guessed it was. When she straightened up and rearranged her face into a kind but rather concerned look, she squawked “What are you going to do with that?” I didn’t consider plans for the leg and asked if she had any suggestions.
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