She's just come undone," her mother had whispered on the phone to her aunt Bella. It was an old colloquialism, the sort of thing you didn't think people still said.
The phrase fit Sara so completely that she had found herself surrendering to it, imagining her arms and her legs detaching from her body. What did it matter? What did she need arms or legs or hands or feet for if she couldn't run to him, hold him, touch him?
— Karin Slaughter
slaughterundone