Tied Foot Waiting

I spread it on the pure white desk, this detached foot placed right in the center.

Skin cool yet lifelike, toes slightly curled, heel round and full—like it was cleanly severed from a body moments ago.

Beside it lies the pair of white socks, yellow-green stripes bright, tiny tricolor flags at the cuff. I pick one up, slowly slide it over the toes, fabric hugging every curve, wrapping the soft pink sole and ankle completely.

Finally I pull the yellow satin ribbon around the ankle, loop it twice, tie a tight bow.

Now it rests there alone, wearing my sock, toes pointing up, waiting.

My fingers are already pressing down—