As he lay there, contemplating the events that had led him to his current diminished state, David couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at him. The room was eerily silent, amplifying the weight of his isolation. He longed for the comfort of his normal-sized existence, where everything was familiar and predictable.

"What have I gotten myself into?" David muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the stillness. Clearly, saying he didn’t want to be further involved in the experiment wasn’t going to get him out of his predicament; it was obvious Caitlin was willing to circumnavigate ethics to get the results she wanted.

Resigned to this fact, David pondered what was going to happen tomorrow. May seemed like a sweet, innocent person, but her feet inflicted more mental damage on David than any bully he’d ever dealt with. He could still taste their essence in the air and he’d be gagging if his body hadn’t done him the favor of getting used to it.

He thought about those beige flats, remembering the moment when May took them off and introduced him to the taste of his new hell. Such a simple action bore so much pain for him, and she had no idea of what she was doing to him. Somehow the extra layer of separation between him and the volunteer was all the more dehumanizing, as well as dangerous. How did Caitlin even get authorization to run this experiment… Did she?

David thought further about her.

If Caitlin was implying what David thought she was, things would only be getting worse. But what could be worse than what May’s feet were capable of? The girl had extra-sweaty feet because of her condition, what could be worse than that?

“May was told to wear her oldest flats… Emily was given higher compensation for wearing her Asics…  that means whoever's next has something similar going on… wait… Emily?” David spoke aloud. He realized it. There was a non-zero chance Emily would be one of the participants. Considering the set-up of the experiment, she’d have no idea he would even be involved, so hoping for her to save him was pointless. The very idea of his best friend putting him through that level of torture broke his heart.

David wasn’t exactly phobic of feet, but now he wasn’t so sure. Regardless, he’d always harbored quite a strong dislike for them, and that was actually Emily’s fault. He recalled a time in which Emily asked him for a foot massage after a softball game, and his stupid crush on her made him cave and do it. What he didn’t realize was just how bad and neglected Emily’s feet were. She doesn’t even wear socks… ever!

David continued to reminisce about that incident, shaking his head at the memory. Emily's casual attitude towards her own foot odor had always baffled him. He had never understood how she could be so nonchalant about something that seemed so repulsive to him.

But now, lying there in the darkness, David realized that his aversion to foot odor had taken on a whole new level of significance. It was no longer just a personal preference or a mild discomfort; it had become a matter of survival.

As he considered the possibility of Emily being involved in the experiment, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety. What if she was the next participant? Would he be able to endure the torture of her odor for an extended period of time? The thought made his stomach churn.

“Anyone but her…” David muttered, laying his head back on the cool metal of the box. “Please god, spare me from tomorrow… I can’t handle any more feet…” he continued, starting to drift off to sleep in his exhausted state.