A Face At Hand

She rubbed and rubbed her swollen, allergy-smothered eyes until they came out in her hands. Eyelids, eyelashes, and all. It didn’t hurt, it was merely bizarre. She was looking back up at her empty face. She tried again, rubbing her nose with one of her free fingers. It, too, came off onto her hand, this time on the right palm. Well, there was only one thing remaining, she supposed. And with her thumb, she rubbed her soft lips vigorously until they became part of her left hand. Interesting, she thought. And she went to face the world on her hands.