When Harry Met Sally

Written for Muse On Monday.
David challenges us to write a
story about a character with
a prosthetic body part.

Harry’s prosthetic leg was a finely crafted masterpiece, but it possessed a mind of its own whenever he tried to act smooth.

He was standing in the middle of an upscale, ridiculously quiet art gallery, trying to play it cool with Sally …. a sharp-witted curator with a laugh that made his heart do a jitter bug. He leaned casually against a pedestal, trying to look like a guy who was totally into abstract expressionism.

That was his first mistake.

As he shifted his stance to deliver what he hoped was a charmingly insightful comment on a beige canvas, his prosthetic foot caught the edge of a heavy plush rug. Instead of a smooth pivot, the rubber grip locked in place, turning his graceful lean into a desperate, slow-motion windmill.

In a heroic effort to save himself, he reached for the nearest solid object …. a velvet rope attached to a brass stanchion. The stanchion tipped, setting off a glorious domino effect that knocked over a display case of avant-garde ceramic spheres. They hit the hardwood floor like bowling balls, rumbling straight across the gallery and crashing into a metal sculpture, which let out a chime like a cathedral bell.

Silence descended on the room. Everyone in the gallery turned to stare, each face wearing an expression of smug disdain and annoyance.

Harry stood frozen, one foot turned at a bizarre 90-degree angle, his arms still raised like a confused referee. He looked at the wreckage, then looked at Sally.

“So,” Harry squeaked, carefully twisting his foot back into position with an audible “clank”. “On a scale of one to ten … how much do you think I improved the look of that display?”

Sally stared at the scattered ceramics, then at Harry’s newly straightened leg. She covered her mouth, but a snort escaped, followed by a burst of loud laughter that echoed through the quiet room.

“Honestly?” Sally wiped the tears from her eyes, stepping over a stray ceramic ball to reach him. “It’s the first time anyone’s made abstract art interesting.”

She offered him her arm with a sly smile. “Come on, let’s ditch this joint and grab a drink before someone sics security on that dissident leg of yours.”

That’s the moment Harry knew Sally was the one for him.

NAR©2026

This is “It Had To Be You” by Harry Connick Jr.

Muse on Monday – September 7, 2026

^{Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.}