The Lost Property Office

The office smelled intensely of strong tea. It was barely bigger than a cupboard, lined with shelves full of forgotten things. Brenda looked up as a man entered, wearing an immaculate bowler hat and carrying a mannequin under his arm. 

—Yes? she offered.

—I’d like to hand this in.

—Why?

—It seemed lost.

—Where’s the other leg?

—I’m not sure. It must have hopped off.

Brenda sighed, accepting the dummy. She wrote a tag and attached it to the legless mannequin. As the man turned and walked out, she noticed his single leg was suspiciously sculpted—a perfect mannequin limb.