Fifty Beasts to Break Your Heart: And Other Stories

by GennaRose Nethercott

That night, I dream that I am pulling off my fingernails and giving them to you. You toss them into a lake, and as they sink to the bottom you make a wish on each one. For a moment, I am angry; shouldn’t I get to wish on my own nails? But then you turn and I see your face and forget about being angry. I give you the last of my fingernails. When the final one reaches the lake bottom, you do not put on goggles and try to retrieve them. Instead, you reach out your hand to me, asking for more. I only had ten, and you threw them all in the lake, so I start giving you other parts of my body—my hands and feet, my teeth, the caps on my knees. Eventually, you get bored and go inside without diving in for any of them. I would do it myself, but you already threw in my arms, so I wouldn’t be able to pick any parts of me up or swim back to the surface. I just wait on the shore looking into the water until I wake up.

It looks just like you, but then again, everything I see looks like you.