8Rachel slid the napkins beside the plates, and then placed silverware carefully on them. It was the first time she’d invited people to dinner since she moved into the Norton provided apartment. Well, not counting the few times she’d reluctantly fed Marcus. Thinking of him, she walked to her bedroom just in time to see him step out of the bathroom.
In the streaming light from her solar window, she could clearly see the writing on his prosthetic arm. Written in some fancy ancient script, it was still legible as a solitary promise to remain true to himself. Considering what Marcus had done to his body, including the sacrifice of an original arm and both legs, it was the height of irony that he’d chosen to place it where he couldn’t help seeing it every day.
His body had become a familiar l
