She thought her hands were shrinking, and they were. Every time she washed her hands, a bit of them washed away. But hands being hands, they stayed as hands, just less.
Her family didn’t believe her. Though she held them up, no one could see. She thought that it was because they didn’t live with her hands like she did. Sixty-five years of life, and she saw them every day.
She challenged young Sam, who had nearly turned five, to observe his hands for one day. He did, and later told his Mom that his hands were shrinking away. This caused Barbara, Sam’s mom, to call Debra, her friend.
“Debra, my mother is losing her shit. Seriously. I don’t know what to do.”
To which Debra replied:
“There’s only one thing to do.”
Sam, overhearing this, ran out of his home.
My mom is going to kill my grammy! I’ve got to help her!
His plan was insane. He was going to pick up all the bits of Grammy’s hands and give them back to her. When her hands were whole, he would hold them, and with her, get away.
But his plan didn’t work, because his Grammy died the next day.
