Prologue
126 Words
Prologue
The footman slid his hand around DBO’s ankle and admired her toes. There was not a bunion in sight. Her nails were a perfect line of tiny white soldiers and her heels were smooth—not a crack to be found.
He wrapped his forefinger around her big toe and began.
“That feels funny,” said DBO.
“Bear with me, ma’am.”
“I mean really funny.”
The footman continued.
DBO pulled a face.
“Now the second toe,” he muttered.
“Must you?” said DBO.
“Yes, but you get used it.”
“Hmmm.”
Then:
“Argh; oh; I see what you mean. It’s starting to hurt less.”
“Yes. Then it hits somewhere higher,” whispered the footman.
“Oh my pickled egg,” whispered DBO.
The footman worked through her toes, moved to her heel, and then worked up to her ankle joint.
DBO began to sigh.
“And the other foot?” she muttered.
- Writer
