Panacea - Regrows arm

“Don’t keep picking at it,” Amy said.

Chris kept clenching and unclenching his arm, staring at him.

“It’s just weird, you know. Thirty minutes ago, my arm was a fish. Now it feels like it’s my arm, but it’s not.”

Amy had matched the color on the arm perfectly; it helped that Chris didn’t have a tan except on his hands. His arms were covered in his costume, and he spent a lot of time in the lab. He kept feeling around, as though he was trying to find the place where his old shoulder ended and his new arm began, but it seemed to be fruitless.

“You’ll get used to it,” I said. “We replace pretty much every cell in our body every seven years anyway; you just got to do it faster.”

***

Plumber