His legs started to shake. They weren’t his any more.
Days passed, and he looked in his bathroom mirror, seeing his face with a body he didn’t recognise.
When he wrote that down in his notebook the words didn’t feel like his own.
He had spoken to friends, but they laughed. There was nothing different. It was a funny joke.
Each morning he watched feet walk to work that were no longer his, hands and legs shaking, wrists clicking, slowly falling further from his control.