Missing Limb

The Missing Limb I was driving a long when I saw half an arm, from elbow and down to hand, on the verge of the road. I stopped picked it up with my right hand and it quickly grabbed my left wrist and wouldn´t let go. A man came from the bushes: “it is my arm,” he said and wrestled it off my wrist and connected the limb to its rightful place, stapled and put it between his shirt opening looking like Napoleon. He told me that years ago he lost his own arm, doctors sewed a new one on; works ok, but there are tasks it doesn´t like to do like being helpful when nature calls, I let my right hand do it but sometimes I forget the left detaches itself tries to run off. With that he went back to his field mounted a tractor, his left arm worked fine, and he disappeared in a blast of dust and diesel fume