Toes

I have ten.

I had a great aunt with only nine (one had be amputated, I no longer recall why). My aunt insisted that we call her “nine-toes” and whenever she came to visit would remove her shoes to prove that she did, indeed, have only nine. This made a huge impression on a small child brought up in a somewhat straight-lace family — I could not imagine my grandmother removing her shoes.

But I have ten.

Two nights ago I tripped on an extension cord, and in the confusion manage to land on the middle toe of the other foot.

It didn’t like it.

It still doesn’t.

It’s gone all black and it hurts. It doesn’t want to bend. I have a race in two days, I wonder if I’ll be able to run it well?

I keep thinking that my aunt was right. I should just cut it off and be done with it. I’ve got nine others.

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