Two Left Feet
For three days, I have been mincing around in a pair of sandals–ordinarily, these are a very VERY sexy pair of shoes. Strappy, silver, barely-there. For now, they are the only thing that I can fit over my broken part without tears welling in my eyes. At the office, the bakery, the café at 7 a.m. To the drugstore for aspirin, cycling across town, to a dinner and gelato date. Wherever the location, whatever the occasion, the silver sandals are there.
Somehow, the “wow” isn’t quite the same when one of the perfectly pedicured toes peeping out happens to be blue, black, and three times its customary size.