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You are standing in line with sweat on your face, in line to the emergency room. You are holding your ring fingers in your hands. Nicely cut off your ring fingers. In front of you old ladies and men who don’t seem to be that desperate to get help are queued. You want to get in faster. You are worried about the time because from anatomy classes you remember that if you cut your body parts and freeze them immidiately, perhaps, they can be attached again. It’s been already 15 minutes since you found yourself biking without two fingers. One is hanging down your pants, the other one you hold in your hand. So, when in the hospital, you only think about the pressing time. You want to have your fingers attached. Standing in line you are trying to do it on your own. You attach the finger, it won’t hold, because both surfaces are too dry. You don’t want to think it is too late. You imagine how doctors cut a slice from your remaining finger and from the detached finger to make the surfaces wet and sticky to put them back into place. Together. Althou I felt the time pressure, I didn’t feel any pain. I ran to the doctors when I got scared to wait any longer. And the doctor smiled when he saw my fingers. You  know, that wise, I-know-everything smile. When I woke up, the first thing I did, I checked my fingers. They were allright. Now I remember a surgery on my thumb in real life not that long ago, when I got the finger into the bike lock. My nail is still black on one side.