Haunted rice!

There's one grain of cooked rice under my foot.
It is stuck into my sock.
It slightly tugs on the fabric as I lift my foot from the kitchen floor.
It does it once more as I step through the toilet room door.

Should I remove it?
I have a minute.
Pulling up the tip of my sock. Stretching it up and over my toe.
On the bottom, it's revealed.
Look, it is squished.
It's a mess.
It's a test.
Do I get angry, or do I resist? The smushed grain of rice under my foot.

It's such a tiny nuisance.
Who else cares? Who knows? It's no bother.
I hum to myself quietly, "let it go- let it go"!
REMOVE IT! Whispers the ghost of my father.

Shaking my head. I fall back into bed.

It's afternoon. Hours have passed. 
I'm hungry at last!
I love days off. My how time pass. Doing nothing.
Once more, I step through the toilet room door.
"OUCH!"
Sharp pain- it stings!
Under my foot. Stuck into my toe. 
It's a grain of harden, smashed, dried rice.