It was a Friday evening.
So here I am sipping onto a nice, frosty cup of Spinallie while enjoying the radio-friendly hits being performed by two guys outside Heeren – it was a lovely night to tap your feet to, whip up some night lovin’ to the beats but a giddy trap had to snap at my head.
Just as I was about to leave, there came this absurdly dressed girl. She looks 16-17 ish.she she sat down on the bench next to mine. She took out her shoes, with a sigh of relief. Feeling rather curious, I bend down to take a peek. Red tomatoes, yes that was what her toes looked like, I am serious. I swore if you could see them, you would agree with me on this one. They looked like red tomatoes. I could not blame her for the condition her feet were in because she was wearing 5-inch stilettos. Ouch I thought. The back of her sloe was bleeding.
She rummages through her bag frantically. She wore heavy make up, thick eyeliner and a sturdy amount of compact. Her mascara had smudged all around her eyes. She had green eyes; she probably was wearing one of those colored contact lenses. She wore this long tunic dress, with outstanding red tights, kind of reminds me of the bizarre fashion sense back in the 80s.
Just then she puts down her bag, she rips open the plaster from the packet to nurse her tiny tomatoes looking toes. I felt a tinge of pity for the poor girl and her toes. She then put on her shoes again. She gripped the side of the bench to gain her balance. Gees jimmy choos doesn’t seem to be her best person right now. After regaining balance she paces a foot forward carefully. I could see the translation of pain from her face. Then she places the other foot forward. A little by little. She walked off in pain, picking up speed in her steps. I gave her a friendly smile as she walked to the evening crowd. The girl with the red toma-TOES.