a man at a café with a coffee and a pastry and his phone.
he picks up the coffee with his left hand when a car horn beeps very loudly, startling him. the coffee spills in his lap and on his pastry.
he grabs the pastry first and shoves it madly into his mouth.
he never drops his phone.
a server comes up with a towel.
he hands her the mug, takes the towel and wipes the phone, which never had any coffee on it to begin with.
then he wipes the table.
then he wipes his pants.
she reaches for his phone.
Server: Here, let me-
he tries to hand the phone to her.
his grip is relentless.
his hand his rigid and unmoving.
He: I’m sorry, I-
Server: That’s okay. Do you want me to-
He: Yes, yes. It’s just my- my hand-
she pulls the phone, he pulls his arm and tries to release his grip.
finally, the phone comes loose but his hand is stuck in the same position.
Server: Shake it out.
He: It’s stuck. My- it’s cramped. It hurts.
Server: It looks like a claw.
He: A claw?
Server: Yeah.
He: It’s painful.
Server: Looks painful.
the phone dings with a message.
the server looks at the screen.
Server: It’s John.
he reaches out for the phone again.
he hand doesn’t change shape.
Server: Are you sure? You might want to just let it rest for a bit or something.
he nods. the server places the phone back into the claw, fitting like a missing puzzle-piece. she walks away.
the phone dings with messages and typing sounds and messages.
the stage goes black for a moment.
when the lights come back on, he is in a hospital and laying on his back, asleep.
we cannot see his arms; they are under a blanket.
the surgeon enters with his amputated arm and hand in clear a bag.
the phone is still attached.
the phone dings with messages.
he wakes up.
the disembodied arm moves in the bag and starts to respond.
typing sounds and messages.
the surgeon stares at the man.
the man stares at the surgeon.
typing sounds and messages continue.