Her hands were beautiful but she never would have believed that.
They were all soft lines and gentle contours
Her thumbs stood independent but closely linked to their cousin-fingers.
Each finger had its own sturdy nail, its own shape but not its own space.
A delicate web of flesh bound each finger to the next, blurring the borders and barely allowing fingertips.
Her flesh was smooth, it had none of the usual callouses, holding its own conventions.
Knuckles and bones moved and presented through the sleek skin as she gently grasped a cup between her palms and lifted it to her mouth.
Her hands were alien.
Alien and beautiful, but she never would have believed it.