...my husband, Mitchell, now strides forth like a god might across a field. A field with a little tiny girl in it, that is. He's wearing his work clothes - a white, pressed shirt, a red tie, a black belt and brown slacks. As he takes another thunderous step I'm forced to look at his large foot falling back to the carpet, crushing an area several times bigger than myself under his dark brown dress-sock-clad sole.
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