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The tiny man continued his devoted service as the days turned into weeks. His once bright eyes now seemed weary, yet his dedication to my feet remained unwavering. Each evening, he would approach me with the same reverence, massaging and caring for my feet with meticulous precision. Despite his tireless efforts, my feet remained dirty and smelly, a constant reminder of his humble position.
One evening, as he knelt before me, I noticed a slight tremor in his hands. "You're shaking," I observed, my voice dripping with contempt. "Is the task becoming too much for your pathetic little self?"
He looked up at me, his tiny face filled with fear and determination. "No, Goddess," he replied quickly. "I am just eager to serve you better."
I smirked, revelling in my superiority. "Good. Because I have no tolerance for .........................