This story takes place in my Calamity Jane story world.
Jane yawned and stretched, happy to see sunlight streaming in through the gauzy curtains of the room she shared with Yamini. Surprised at its height in the sky, she checked the pocket watch hanging from the bedpost, It was half-past nine in the morning. She’d slept in and it was mostly thanks to a raucous night with her lover. The state of their sheets and the smell of sex in the air would have given the impression that they’d had company, but it was just the two of them. Yamini knew how to love her like no one else.
She reached down to retrieve the spring-driven prosthetic arm and with practiced ease drew its harness over her shoulders and slipped her stump into its leather cup. Yamini was also one of the very few people in her life who knew what Jane’s stump looked and felt like. The two women had similar injuries. Jane was beginning to think of it as less of an injury or limitation and more as a part of who she was now.