This woman was the class of Savers by a factor of at least seven, so I had to take her picture. I would have preferred to get down on my hands and knees and get personal with her shiny stilettos with a nonfunctional buckle around the heel that sort of meant business. But since I was in an advanced state of decay (fresh off a trail run) and she already, very reasonably, had grievous doubts about my being, my mental state, my intents, I thought best not to push it. Her shoes are by Guess, which saddens me a little. As if. An individual who reeks like three-day-old fish, has dried spit on her face and is in all respects a danger to the public has no business putting on airs.
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