I entered the dressing room of a store that turned out to be occupied by a man with a missing nose. “Sorry,” I apologized, rushing to the dressing room next door, trying to imagine myself in front of the mirror without that extension. The shirt fit me well, but I was not convinced by the workmanship, so I returned the garment and stopped trying others because the sight of the man without a nose bothered me. On the way home, on the bus, I stopped with my hand on my nose to check if it was still there. Then an old classmate of mine who was missing an arm came to meet me. It was already missing when we met in high school, but then it was on the left and now it’s on the right. No, I said to myself, arms in turn, it can’t be one today and the other tomorrow. While we were talking, I remembered and remembered that he always wrote on the table with his right hand.
The topic occupied my mind for a few days, and then I decided that it was one of the many inexplicable things that happened to us throughout life. The problem was that he was constantly touching my nose to check that he hadn’t lost his way. I did this with my right hand because I was almost unconsciously losing the ability to move my left arm, which my partner didn’t actually have. I was starting to become a one-armed man because although I enjoyed the limb, I could barely use it.
The situation lasted for about fifteen days. Gradually, as I regained the mobility of my arm, I stopped obsessing over the imaginary absence of the nose. It was then that I decided it was time to buy the shirt I had been putting off buying. The shop clerk calculated the size by eye and gave me a blue one that I chose for the neck shape. With some reckless audacity, I entered the empty dressing room of the man with no nose. But when opening the shirt, it turned out that there was a flaw: the left sleeve was missing. I tried anyway, shielding myself as best I could from the onslaught of suffering, but the mirror turned out to have a flaw at the height of my nose that made it almost invisible. So I sat and cried.