Thursday, March 12, 2015


Once as a young girl, maybe 8 or 10, I was riding the 10 or the 100 bus into the Bronx, sitting in the back, taking notice of a woman standing near the back door. The woman was dressed in all yellow. I remember her perfectly still to this day. She had on yellow polyester slacks with a creased seam down the legs and a yellow blouse, knotted at the chest, with flowing sleeves that came together the cuffs. She had on yellow platform shoes, which were pretty cool, sandal style with a strap across the front of the foot and a buckled strap near her ankle. I was admiring her until I saw her yellow painted toes. They were ok toes, but they hung over the edge of the shoe. Her feet were bigger than the shoes and her toes hung past the allotted space. It was horrible. I could not stop staring and wishing she had made a better choice.

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