by Sara Dobbie Julian Zwengel The lady limps through a throng of faceless people, mouthing the words “help me,” but no one sees her because faceless people don’t have eyes. She stumbles to the ground, pulls up her pant leg to reveal a pallid calf, a pointy ankle, but the foot is missing. No blood or bone, just a flat, smooth edge like a mannequin in a window. Paisley opens her eyes to stare at the ceiling, inhales a deep breath, wipes the sweat from her brow. The footless lad