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“Why are you here?” the doctor asked.

“My foot fell off.” She showed him.

“Can you walk?”

He indicated to the linoleum floor, which she hobbled across. He shook his head:

“Please make an appointment with a mental health professional.”

“Why?” She asked.

“You’re histrionic. Your problem stems from this primary fundamental flaw. Now please excuse me.”

She hopped to the door under his dismissive gaze. That night in bed, she stroked her foot soothingly:

“You’ll always be a part of me.”

She later awoke to hear her foot pitter-pattering down the hall. She ran to the door where a bitter blast of wind stung her cheeks. She hopped after her foot’s tracks in the fresh snow.

“You can’t leave me,” she puffed breathlessly, then fell, sinking into the snowy depths. Her only foot left, which was her left foot, being bare, was too numb to continue.

She summed up the facts:

1. The blizzard raged.
2. Her foot had abandoned her.
3. She was freezing.

“You have no right!” Her statement to her right foot went unanswered. She sobbed bitterly, knowing this was the end.

“Nothing is more painful than defeat,” she announced, before giving in to her unintended pun.

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