not striking to single men in the prime of life.
We’ll figure out.
Go.
Of course, the shoe has its owner, which of course also owns this leg, the contemplation of which was so brazenly interrupted. The shoe hung in a half-lifted position, about 15—17 minutes. No less. This may indicate that the hostess – feels herself in this stinking smells and tastes, the atmosphere rumbling with notes and sounds, is quite comfortable, without fuss and nervousness.
Therefore, a woman knows her worth. Undoubtedly.
The leg did not swing to the beat of the music, so its owner – either leads a fascinating conversation with her companion (s), or is immersed in her own thoughts.
The fact that there are no companions is an indisputable fact. In the women’s company – she would not be able to sit for two minutes with a fixed leg.
Now – her alleged companion…
If this is a close person, then why didn’t he notice an almost dropped shoe? Sitting too close not to shout down the volume of the music and the hall? Maybe. But, a man can’t sit next to a spectacular woman for 15 minutes and don’t look at her all over – from head to toe. He would – he saw.
And why did I get that she – in general, spectacular. Can…
Not. Stockings, graceful (not fashionable, namely graceful) slipper. The stillness hanging at your very fingertips…
So…
So – or there is no satellite, or it was – but withdrew. Retired to the toilet? And now he came back, and from this the shoe fell into place and the leg disappeared from my eyes?
May be. It may very well be.
Only…
What if?
Not.
Maybe?
Also no.
But what about?
Well, of course.
Would she begin to expose her lovely leg in an amazing shoe for all to see, while her close companion is away?
This can only be for two reasons. She is not at all satisfied with her hanging out partner at this restaurant. Or – she’s all alone here, but is «in search», «in anticipation». And right now – someone «pecked» while I was doing exercises for the shoe here.
What about stockings?
Or did I invent them for myself?
Well… judging by age…
And I would determine the age of this lady in 32—33, let’s say – up to 35 years.
Why?
How did I manage to determine the age of their owner by shoe and foot?
Ordinary self-confidence? Or what? Yes, very simple.
I’m telling you.
A woman who is in a noisy restaurant sits at the bar and for 15 minutes does not make any leg movements and does not pay attention to the shoe that almost fell from her foot…
This is not youthful energy and enthusiasm, and not attributes of the onset of a second youth, I mean the age of 40—45 years. In both of these cases – there would be movement and a shoe – would have been put in place, in about five minutes. Well, seven…
Therefore – we do not twitch over trifles, it is not so important for us to have all buttons, all fasteners, all slippers buttoned (or unfastened)…
Comfort and grace, charm and confidence in your innate femininity. Naturally spectacular.
Plus – the already mentioned stockings and…
And again – stockings.
We do not take into account the appearance of the legs. Well there…
Plastic surgery, lifting. In spite of artificial interventions, since no falsehood is felt…
There is sincerity and naturalness.
And – therefore:
If she – in fact, is here without her companion to visit this restaurant, then she is no more than 35 years old.
Fact.
The triumph of deduction.
OK.
It is time to advance to combat positions.
Sorry. How do I recognize her?
Peek into all the ladies’ under skirts? Say hello to their shoes?
Damn.
Got into.
Oh, man…
Prince from «Cinderella».
Well…
Where ours hasn’t disappeared!
…
– Excuse me…
«Will you let me pass?»
– Thank you.
– I passed, but I can’t get away…
«I have to get to know your shoe.»
– Because I’m looking for my Cinderella.
– Not. I am not a prince. And I don’t have a second shoe. But mine – I know for sure. Definitely.
Chapter 2. FOOT
She was looking at me. No – not a foot, but – SHE.
It was not a look, it was not a look. It was…
At first I was torn into hundreds of small pieces and at the same time…
Soaked up…
Dragged in…
Sucked in…
Two huge and identical in shape – saucers. No, not saucers. Baths? No – not a bath. Lakes? The ocean?
Two water surfaces located – one next to the other. Like two adjacent pools. From a bird’s-flight distance. Or higher?
Rapidly.
I somehow plunged sharply, with all my hundreds of pieces, and… It seems to be I’m whole?…
At the very bottom of these tanks. Moreover – instantly reaching an incredible depth, where sunlight did not penetrate anymore and in the flicker of glare there was a cold of depth. The lights went dark and terrible permafrost began to bind me…
But now – I was thrown to the surface again. Am I alone and whole? Or am I whole, but made up of hundreds of pieces?
For some reason, I found myself in the left pool and something dragged me from one edge to the other. And back…
Dragged – to the right pool…
And here – already rinsed, back and forth – like underwear before squeezing it.
No need to squeeze me!
Oooh!
Flying back to my place in the restaurant, where I continued to stand, I managed to notice that I was flying – from these same pools. Decreasing in size, they became the huge eyes of a woman.
The woman I spoke to just a minute ago. About her shoe…
What is it?
What kind of obsession?
She was silent. And since I had already visited her eyes, she did not look at me, but looked at