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MidReal Story
The Pedi Date
Scenario:Johanna läuft wie immer im Sommer barfuß durch die Stadt, weil sie das Gefühl sehr mag. Sie trägt lediglich ihren Zehenring am zweiten Zeh. Sie kommt an einem Nagelstudio vorbei und entschließt sich spontan, eine Pediküre machen zu lassen
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Johanna
She is a freespirited young woman living in a big city. She is adventurous, spontaneous, and independent. Johanna enjoys walking barefoot through the city, feeling the heat and sensation under her feet. She strolls past a nail salon and impulsively decides to get a pedicure. This rare moment of indulgence reveals her playful and unconventional nature. Johanna returns home feeling content and refreshed, ready to enjoy her favorite local restaurant.
I love walking barefoot in the summer.
I know a lot of people don’t, but I'm one of those people who hates having things on my feet.
Shoes, socks, sandals—I hate it all.
If I can help it, I will walk barefoot.
And if I can help it, I will walk barefoot through the streets of this big city.
I know it's not the most sanitary thing in the world, but I'm a germaphobe in other ways.
I never touch subway poles or handles on public transportation.
I always wash my hands before I eat.
But my feet are different.
I love the sensation of different textures beneath my toes—hot pavement, cool grass, rough bark, and smooth stone.
I love feeling the heat of the sidewalk beneath my feet in July and August.
It's like my own personal welcome to the world outside.
I'm so used to walking barefoot that I don't even notice when people look at my feet as I pass by.
I'm not sure they're looking at my feet anyway.
Most people are too busy to pay any real attention to me as I stroll through the city.
But today is different.
Today is a special kind of day where everything feels just a little bit off-center.
I pause at the window of a nail salon, looking in through the glass.
The inside is pristine white with cushioned chairs lined up against the wall.
Each chair has a footrest that holds a bubbling tub of water.
Women sit in each chair, their feet soaking while technicians work on their toes.
I look down at my own reflection in the window.
My feet are dusty and dirty from weeks of walking around the city barefoot.
I can see the callouses that have formed on my heels and toes.
I wiggle my toes against the hot pavement, feeling the rough texture of the ground one last time before I go inside.
I know it's going to be a while before I get to feel that sensation again.
As I push open the door, a bell chimes above me and I step inside.
The air conditioning hits my skin, cooling me instantly.
A young receptionist looks up from behind her desk and smiles at me.
"Hi there, how can I help you today?" she asks, her voice bright and welcoming.
"I'm here for a pedicure," I reply, hesitating slightly as I glance down at my feet.
She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice, "You know, they say the city streets hold secrets only the barefoot can uncover."
The receptionist leads me through a beaded curtain to a back room.
The lighting is dim, and soft instrumental music plays in the background.
I sink into a plush leather chair, feeling the soft cushions envelop my body.
My feet tingle with excitement as I lift them onto the footrest.
The receptionist fills a copper basin with warm water and adds rose petals for fragrance.
She kneels before me, gently lifting my right foot and placing it in the water.
As she begins to massage my toes, her fingers trace the delicate curve of my toe ring.
She looks up at me with a knowing smile.
"This marking," she whispers, touching the callous on my heel, "shows you've found the hidden garden path."
I sit comfortably as the podiatrist gently lifts my foot, her eyes fixed on the toe ring.
She asks about its significance with a soft voice, "What does this little beauty mean to you?"
I explain it's a memento from a past adventure, a symbol of freedom and memories.
She nods, understanding, and offers to remove it for the pedicure.
I hesitate, weighing the decision.
Slowly, I agree, watching as she carefully slides the ring off.
She places it on the table beside me.
In that moment, I realize that sometimes, to truly embrace the world, you must first let go.
The podiatrist's skilled hands work methodically on my feet, her fingers tracing every curve and crevice.
As she lifts my foot, I notice a pale band of skin where the toe ring once sat.
It's a stark contrast against the sun-tanned skin of my toes, a testament to how long I've worn that ring.
She applies gentle pressure to my arch, and I lean back, letting my head rest against the cushioned chair.
The warm water ripples around my ankles as she works out the tension in my heels.
The podiatrist's hands work methodically up my calves, easing knots I didn't even know existed.
I lean back, letting my head rest against the cushioned chair.
The salon's gentle music mingles with the sound of running water.
She applies firm pressure to a sensitive spot on my sole, and I wince slightly.
"Too much?" she asks, immediately adjusting her touch.
"No, it's perfect," I murmur, realizing how much I needed this.
The warm towel she wraps around my feet feels like a cocoon.
As the towel's warmth envelops me, I close my eyes, ready to step into a new chapter.
The pedicurist dries my feet with a fresh towel and examines her work, running her fingers along my newly smoothed heels.
She picks up my toe ring from the table, studying it under the bright salon lights.
"Your feet look so elegant now," she says, holding the ring away from my foot.
"The indentation here," she traces the pale line on my second toe, "it was restricting your natural beauty."
She moves toward the waste bin, ring in hand.
"Should I just...?"
Her gesture makes my stomach tighten.
I stare at the ring dangling over the opening of the trash bin, its silver surface catching the fluorescent light.
The pedicurist waits patiently, her fingers still holding the ring above the opening.
My throat tightens as memories flash through my mind - barefoot walks on the beach, exploring city streets without a care, hiking mountain trails with nothing but my own two feet to guide me.
The pale indent on my second toe seems to pulse.
Taking a deep breath, I focus on my newly pampered feet, now smooth and polished.
The ring had left its mark long enough.
I meet the pedicurist's eyes and give a firm nod.
As the ring falls toward the trash, my body moves before my mind catches up.
I lunge forward, nearly knocking over the pedicure chair, and snatch the ring from midair.
The pedicurist gasps, stumbling backward into her cart of supplies.
Bottles of polish clatter to the floor.
My freshly moisturized feet slip slightly on the smooth tiles as I stand.
The familiar metal feels cool against my palm, and without thinking, I clutch it tightly.
My heart races from the sudden movement.
The other customers stare as I stand there, dripping water from my feet onto the pristine floor.
I take a deep breath, slip the ring into my toe pocket, and smile at the surprised pedicurist.