while walking around adora
i go into the inner sanctum (that’s what it felt like) where they kept the manolo blahniks, ina trailing behind looking at the other shoes—and went further in to find to pick up a pair of ankle boots.
“ins, do i have a self who would wear these?”
“a happy one, who would wear nothing else,”
cue tall, willowy guy in a leather jacket, “could we tempt you to try them on? they’re really good.”
[where do they appear from? there are all these portions swathed in curtains and suddenly they’re just there?]
“oh no, that would mean a broken heart,” ina says as we try our best to hightail out of there.
“but they’re on sale, so there’s no guilt”
and while we’re wandering around in other sections of the store, giggling at how we really just hotfooted it out of that lovely carpeted place, ina turns to me and asks, “did he expect you to try out the shoes? or to strip down?”
really, not a good question to ask a bulgar colegiala.