I can’t help thinking of my old body lying on a suburban verge somewhere, like a perfectly good PC with the processor removed, its old instruction manual left behind in my brain trying to work a machine that it doesn’t describe. I have to open my eyes again. They won’t tell me how my donor died; apparently her family has requested anonymity, so I won’t ever find out. She’s a little taller than I was, and a little thinner, too. They’re right, I should be grateful.
— from ‘Phantom’, a story by Jennifer Mills in The Lifted Brow #22.