The red paint on her big toes is the color of a fresh bruise. An internal cringe. Is that uncouth? Will it matter? Maybe she should stop and get some remover. But then there’s the smell. What about the taste. Oh god, there might be sucking. “Better to be safe”, she mumbles while hooking into a Walgreens.

The middle of the afternoon. Just a regular Wednesday in a typical suburban zip code. She briefly considers a quick pedi at the closest nail spa but rules it out. Better to not be late. Strolling down the chilled empty aisle, cork heels flapping against the linoleum, she casually eyes the lotions before ruling out pre-show moisturizing. Focus. Less is more.

“Every time,” she whispers emphatically while clutching a fist. Her worst quality is overthinking. The whole idea of this is developing indifference.

Growing up, unfamiliar often equated to bad. The closer you live to the sun influences your opinion of hot. I’m prone to diaphoresis – the egg to my anxiety. No reason to choose a humid climate. Not to mention drama.

I’m flying higher than ever, smiling so much I almost want the wax to melt. Just to relax. Then I bow forward and hang my head. Miles left to go before I rest. Upward momentum, coasting along. Not sinking, just floating still.

I forgot about gliding.