Her Boots

She wore black boots, small ones, size six. With gold buckles on the ankle and at the calf. A long gold zipper up the back. Thigh high stockings. A black skirt and white oxford. Her dark hair cascaded onto the white shirt in soft, welcoming waves. Her eyes a deep brown, mysterious and intense. Her skin pleasantly tan, even as the first cool days of autumn took hold.

Crisp, almost cold mornings and cool, inviting evenings. Warm sunny days. A favorite, fleeting time.

She worked in a basement office with a window at the ceiling so she could see the street, see the feet of the passersby, now mostly clad in boots or closed-toe shoes, reflecting the transition in the season. Now and then, some sandals still holding on to summer's warmth would pass, and she'd remember the feel of the warm sun on her own toes.

READ MORE>