When I first found two of your fingers on the sidewalk, I didn't think much of it. Days later, though, they were still there and then I found what looked like a rib or maybe just a piece of one in some grass nearby. Next there was what I think might have been a tendon or a nerve ending in the storm drain. Then a kneecap. Then your left ear. At night I began to dream about what I could make from the pieces. I spent several afternoons drawing sketches. I went to the hardware store and stocked up on supplies. I thought about maybe waiting for more parts of you to turn up, but putting you back together entirely didn't seem like a viable option. Before I could come up with a good idea, though, anonymous letters started coming in the mail: "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," they all began, but I didn't listen.