A white socked foot, labeled 1985 DOUYUYIPIN, cleanly severed and now an independent object.
It rests there on the glass table, cotton fabric clinging tightly to its supple curves, the arch gently raised, toes subtly outlined beneath the fabric.
I pick it up, feeling its heavy weight and lingering warmth in my palm. Slowly, I turn it — examining every angle, every side, every cut surface.
It belongs to me completely.
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