That night I “borrowed” my own foot from my body.
The moment I took it off, I slipped a white sock over it. Now it stands quietly on the small table, like a freshly made toy. The sole is still warm, carrying the dampness of just being removed; the flesh-colored edge at the ankle makes my throat tighten.
I won’t touch it yet—I’ll wait before deciding how to ruin it.
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The soles of the feet look very soft.
What kind of materials do you think would feel great?
Send it to me.
This very strange.