Rae hid in the shadows and studied the boy that her father had just brought into the bar. He looked mostly normal, but then, so did she. His hands, though, were huge. He couldn't seem to unclench his giant fists, and she could tell he was having trouble eating.
She wanted to help him, but of course, she couldn't. But Millie was the one that fed her; maybe she could help the boy. Rae could see a pride in him; he wouldn’t accept help easily. Maybe seeing Millie help herself? Not that Rae wanted to be seen as weak anymore than he probably did, but he needed the food.
And yet, she shrank back into the shadows, watching, not helping. And the thought continued to run through her mind, as it had since she had first laid eyes on the boy.
What kind of world was this, where one could be born with too little hands, and another with too much?