My toes are two steps away from being claws.
A leap or so away from being able to play piano with the same dexterity (read: clumsy persistence) as my hands.
I can splay them to grasp the ground, pick up a pencil.
My mother says I’m a throwback- more homo ergaster in me than others.
If you ask me, I’ll say I hate them.
But even more secretly, I am pleased they’re nothing like those stubby toes most people have. They can’t do anything but curl.
I’ve always been able to handle ugly.

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