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Chronicles of the Little Toe

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I was doing my daily activity along my inseparable squad. I helped to maintain the balance, as usual, pressing down. Suddenly, disgrace fell upon me. A heavy load pounced over my head, almost making me lose it. It left me bald with the same efficiency and agility of a Sioux, a Redskin or an Apache; I beg their descendants forgive me if I don’t recall correctly which one of them used to do it, but I don’t care, it describes exactly what happened. OH! THE PAIN! OH! THE HORROR! Me, who whined at the nail clipper cutting routine, when they removed without mercy remains of beautiful keratin. The most dreadful thing that I’d have experienced in my long, monotonous and quiet existence. It wasn’t the first blow I’d received, but never, never, never I had suffered so much.

“Poor little one,” took mercy of me Fourth.

“Just a little of ice will suffice,” sentenced Third.

“How strange! You’re a total drama queen,” was Second’s cruel reaction.

Big Toe, indolent as usual, said nothing.

It has passed a couple of days. Even the smallest touch makes me relive that awful experience. On the bright side, now I’m protected, they take care of me like a newborn, keeping me wrapped in cotton and refreshing creams. Not at all like that fateful day when not even a layer of wool or cotton protected me from danger. I’m still in recovery, the doctors say that with time I will return to my normal size and enjoy again my beautiful hair. I just have to wait.