He was an outsider, an insignificant stain in the fabric of normalcy. Even after normalcy was thrown out the window, he still did not quite belong.
The mutation had been quick. He watched it happen to his brother, his best friend followed suit. But the third limb was just an interlude to an entire chorus of changes: of fingers merging together, entire scalps falling off. Of noses splitting and lips getting stuck in voiceless screams.
Ten years ago, he caught fire in his face.
He was deaf enough to miss the deadly alien opera that took the rest of humanity.
*Inspired by the prompt critical eye from The Daily Post.