“Sorry sis, I promised I’d help mom with dinner,” you say, walking out of her room and into the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. This is it, the last member of your family, besides your dead beat dad, who still has their neck. You hold the pencil up to your neck, erasing a line through it as it vanishes, your head plopping down to your waiting hands. Holding yourself by your chin, you check yourself out. Your neck line is smooth, as if you never had a neck at all. You get a quick glance at the shower, noticing an oddly shaped stand on the wall, clearly designed to hold your heads while your bodies wash.
You head your mother call out, “Dinner’s ready.”
Leaving the bathroom, you see your little sister running down the hall, head tucked under her arm. You follow her suit, taking your seat at the kitchen table where your mom is waiting, head already on a cloth next to where her plate would go. Your older sister comes in as well, setting her head at the table while her body get herself a drink.
You blush seeing your family taking it so well. Taking your seat, you enjoy your favorite chili, trying to determine your next course of action.
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