She asked me for a favour - it was a little thing, really. One of my little things. A finger. My pinkie, to be precise. And because it was a little thing, and because I loved her, and because I wanted her to be happy, and maybe a little bit because I thought it was hot, I agreed.
I didn't miss it much. I didn't ask where she kept it. When I asked her why she wanted it, she said that she wanted a piece of me, and I was satisfied.
Then, she wanted another one. A toe. The outer one. I was a little hesitant, but by that time I was a little scared in our relationship, I didn't want her to leave, and so I said 'yes'. I didn't miss it much.
But father, I'm writing to you now using just my thumb and index finger to hold my pen. I have no other fingers, no, nor toes. I'm afraid she will ask me for these last two. And if she does, I'm afraid I will give them to her. And I think I will miss these very much indeed.
Your loving son,
Carlos
