Nice Shoes

Dear Diary:

I was at the corner of 42nd Street and Third Avenue rushing to work on a sunny morning when a well-dressed woman came up next to me. I could see that she was trying to ask me a question, so I took out one of my earbuds.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“What brand of shoes are you wearing?” she said.

I glanced down at my shoes. They were soft and pale pink and had white rubber soles.

“I can’t remember,” I said.

She didn’t move.

“They look so comfortable,” she said.

“Do you want me to take my shoe off and look?”

Not waiting for her to answer, I quickly slipped off my right shoe. I squinted at the insole but couldn’t make out the letters without my reading glasses. I turned the shoe over. Finally, I held the shoe out toward the woman.