In the outbuilding Jason collects the body parts. He lines up arms and legs, disembodied heads and the soft padded material pillows of once plump bodies. They have come from loving arms and warm beds to Widget tip’s recycle centre via times and places called neglect. The back of the wardrobe. The crate in the attic. Every so often he finds a whole one, their arms open to the winds that hustle plastic bags through the potholed landscape. He scoops them up, arranges them on the dashboard of his car, and takes them back to the shadowlands of his shed.


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