Her collagen-saturated lips perked upwards in what appeared to be a beaming grin that stretched all the way from her septum down to the tiny dimple in her chin that I’d always imagined would have been filled in with something by now. I could tell that she’d gotten her eyebrows done recently because, even though they were practically invisible, they were frozen in a surprised-kind of look that never went down, even after the rest of her plastic face returned to what Natalie considered normal. She reached out her wiry arms as far as they could stretch beneath her shawl- which appeared to be an unnatural, mutated mixture of avian and mammalian road kill- to embrace me.
“Sammy!” her banshee-voice shrieked in overjoyed jubilation. I flinched as her arm wrapped itself around my shoulder, pressing firmly against the soggy bandages beneath my shirt and my bones began to burn from the contact.
I faked a smile in spite of my overwhelming astonishment, and braced myself against the jagged and immovable edges of the wrecking balls attached to her chest, feeling the wind escaping my lungs as she continued to pull me into her.
This is the new definition of “D” Day.