Footsie
Tuesday, April 17th, 2007“Ma’am,” he said, popping his head over my shoulder, “I just wanted to compliment you.”
I was sitting outside my coffee shop haunt — sandals off and feet propped up on another chair — reading a cultural geographer’s apology for the dynamism of space. I was not prepared for compliments.
“You,” he continued, “have beautiful feet. I haven’t seen any good feet since I moved to St. Louis, but you have beautiful ones.”
And there it was.