On his walk to work Jake found a thumb.

He was surprised by the lack of blood. The thumb, which looked like that of white male, was just lying on the sidewalk next to a soggy leaf a few blocks from his aparment at SE 29th. The cut was clean. It looked like a pig in a blanket with no blanket. Jake adjusted his backpack and looked around for someone in pain or a mafioso. There was nothing. He was the only one on the street at just after seven am. The morning chill seeped into his bones as the rising morning sun painted streaks of orange, red and purple above him. Jake pulled out his cell phone. He was resolved to contact the authorities. The daring tree squirrel who lived in a nearby oak however, had made another resolution.