Those Who Share Skin
“Let me borrow your nose.”
Cenzarra rolled her eyes. “You have a closetful of parts. Why do you always want the ones I’m using?” she complained.
“Really?” Illian asked innocently. “When was the last time I borrowed something of yours?”
“Last week,” Cenzarra huffed. “Remember? You asked for both my hair and eyebrows.”
“Chenzie,” Illian cooed sweetly, “it just means I think you have excellent taste. Someday I’ll have a great collection like you. When that happens, you can borrow anything any time you like.”
She was met with a stare. “I built my collection up from nothing, and I didn’t have anyone to mooch from,” Chenzie retorted, but her tone had softened.
“Please?” Illian sang.
Chenzie rolled her eyes again. She peeled the dainty, pointed nose away from her face and handed it to Illian with a playfully annoyed, “Fine.”
Illian snatched the nose and pressed it to the gaping hole in the middle of her own face.
“You could’ve at least had one to swap,” Chenzie chided. “I hate walking around with exposed bone.”
“Hush,” Illian scoffed. “After two millenia, how many noses do you have? Hundreds?”
