Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 40
Even semi-cute girls in fashionable purple dresses and gladiator sandals pick their noses.

Trust me.

I wouldn’t have noticed were I not sharing her seat on the Metro and slyly admiring her shoes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her hand extend toward her face. Without so much as a sideways glance to ensure no witnesses, she jammed an index finger up her nose. After digging and excavating for at least 30 seconds, she flicked the extraction(s) in the general direction of my feet (which were flip flop-clad and suddenly very vulnerable).

I bowed my head, pretending to read as her hand again inched north. All I could do was read and re-read two paragraphs as she mined for green gold in my peripheral vision.

I spent the remainder of the trip inching my toes as far away from her dumping grounds as possible, swallowing the lump of queasiness rising in my throat and staring blankly at the same page of my book.

And contemplating the injustice of such a cute pair of shoes on the undeserving feet of a public nose-picker.

Print Page