MY PRETTY LEFT FOOT

I look down at my left foot, my favourite part of my body. It looks very pretty in my pink and red high-heeled shoes. I only choose to wear them today to honour and match the decoration of this new venue I’m being shown to. It’s hidden, the kind one rings on a very discreet bell on a wall of a building that seems to host something else. The tones are white and blue, quite unusual for the business of this kind. The temperature feels just right and the perfectly studied intensity of light serves the atmosphere aldente to the eye. Glass in hand, old-fashioned, I’m back to my roots and back to my reflections as I check up with my heart. Beginings are nice, and exciting, though I had few beginnings lately that were quite mellow and flatsided. I told myself, it made sense, I am getting older, my beloved hormones are probably down on my feet now, playing with peebles on the beach talking to each other ‘ain’t it nice to be retired!’ But then there was ‘this’, and there is you and your ‘hell, yeah’ sexy voice, smart approach, and I am back to feeling excited. Beginnings are nice, the romantic and the business like, a new project, a collaboration by the horizon has also brought sparks to the eye, and the mind. Old habits die hard. I’m back to raising the glass to ideas in exchange, all parties involved hoping to be part of something great. I look back down at my left foot in my red and pink high-heeled shoe and I wish for this beginnings to stick and move onto the next phase where I can celebrate the comfort and warmth of the things that are steadily nice in my life.

My pretty left foot. Short-story from ‘12 o’clock-tales’ (The red table and a scared black cat book adventure)

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