The pile of bones on the exam table changed shape as Dr. Henry tried in vain to assemble them. They lengthened. They shortened. They rolled, clattering across the floor as if trying to bounce away.
“Unacceptable!” He wagged a finger at one, an especially stubborn…what was it? A femur? Perhaps a tibia? He put it back with the others and pushed his glasses back to the proper position on his nose.
He’d had the bones for hours, and when his colleagues returned, if he hadn’t made progress, they’d mock him relentlessly.
“What are you?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time. They’d found the bones in a field, and there was much debate on what kind of animal left such strange remains. No matter how he looked at them, they didn’t make sense.
He had an idea. He retrieved a spool of wire from the cabinet behind him. If he could just get them to stop squirming, that would be some sort of progress, at least.
Several turns of wire later, after a mad scramble, and much cursing, the bones relented. They allowed him to give them form.
But when he’d finished, what did he have? Still, it looked like nothing.
The bones had stopped morphing, however. Binding them with wire had sated them in some way, Dr. Henry felt.
Tentatively, he lifted them from the table. The strange network of bone should have looked amorphous, but, somehow, it didn’t.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby standing mirror, noticed the way the bones resembled a coat in his hands. He drew them across his shoulders, shrugged into them, felt the smooth surfaces sink into his skin. The bones fit…him.
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