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... foot and pressed in slow circles, feeling the tension melt under my toes. Mom let out a low, almost embarrassed moan, but I didn’t stop.
With each movement, I looked for the points where she was tired: the heel, often forgotten; the base of the toes, where the shoe squeezes mercilessly; the instep, so delicate. Sometimes I used only my fingertips, other times my whole hand, wrapping them as if I wanted to protect her from the world.
When I finished with her right foot for a mome ...
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