THE RUST SONG
Old Joe's prosthetic arm clicked when he was nervous. It had been doing that since the Great Deluge, when he'd lost his left arm to a rusting oil rig collapse on Platform 14. The replacement — a jury-rigged monstrosity of salvaged hydraulic parts and car battery wiring — clicked with every tendon-tension in his remaining right arm. It was a betrayal his body had made peace with, but his mind...
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