Hasta luego mi mano.

...and when I looked down my right hand was gone. I could have sworn it was there just a second ago but now it was gone. In its place was a hastily written note. In what looked to be my own handwriting was this: “Marc, I needed some time apart to think. I’m long gone by now so please don’t come after me. It’s not you, it’s me. Signed, your right hand.” As I was trying to rectify my extreme confusion with feelings of abandonment, I happened to glance to the ground. Fortunately my hand had only made it about 8 inches from my desk, after all he’s a hand, not a foot.