The Foot He Left Behind

This is my preserved specimen.

It’s the only part of him that remains. A boy’s foot, once it pressed against me with its youthful warmth and pressure, keeping me awake at night. Then he left. I carefully prepared it, removing what was unnecessary, keeping only the cleanest form.

Now it floats quietly in the glass cylinder, toes slightly curled as if still remembering the touch. Crumpled paper is stuffed above, hiding the severance, almost like it’s concealing something. Light passes through the glass, revealing the sole’s texture, the arch’s curve, and those details that once made my heart race.

I stare at it for a long time every day.