AT THE FEET OF SOFIA

The same thing always happens to me, as soon as the heat arrives. I begin to walk with my eyes pointing to the ground more than usual: I am looking at the women's feet, which are beginning to be discovered after the winter confinement. Observing the female lower extremities, and without realizing it, I think how that woman will be intimately. It is as if he undressed her from the bottom up, to then draw some conclusions that are not even clear to me. I never have the impression of knowing a lady in some depth if I have not been able to surreptitiously studying his feet.
And that was what disturbed me about Sofia, the new co-worker who arrived at our company one spring afternoon. She was charming, blonde and possessed of an innocent look. It didn't take long for us to hit it off, and after a week of knowing each other it was rare that we didn't go out for coffee or lunch together after every weekday.
It was a mutual fascination. We spent hours talking, and in less than a fortnight he had told me all about his young life. By the way, I had been just as confident, opening my heart like never before. Everything seemed perfect, and he was heading for a happy romance or one of those friendships that are very rarely seen between men and women. However, there was something that deeply disturbed me.

Revelation

It took me some time to understand what it was, until one hot day in November I knew: since I met her, I had never seen her feet.

By that time it was usual for me to gloat, as every year, in the unconscious observation of the lower extremities of every woman there was.

But it was not the case with Sofia. He had never seen her without closed-toe boots, or fine dark shoes, or fancy slippers. But never barefoot. At first, I downplayed the matter. Likewise, she imagined them according to her slender body. They would have rather slender little fingers, with manicured nails and heels like velvet. But the unresolved issue was still on my mind. To do? Our relationship was maturing, and in her honey-colored eyes I seemed to notice that she expected more from me than chat over coffee and pleasant company. But it was almost impossible for me to think of making her my partner if I didn't reveal that last mystery first: her feet.
It all came crashing down at the beginning of December, when after having coffee outside the office, we walked for a while in the park.

The conversation was going smoothly, although she was tense, as if she couldn't bring herself to say something to me. Finally, she managed to get to the point: she told me that she was in love with me.

An end to the feet

The first impulse I felt was to kiss her passionately. But something stopped me. I knew what she was, but I refused to accept it. Finally, I couldn't help myself: with blurred vision, I bent down and, to her stupor, practically ripped her shoes off. She stood barefoot and embarrassed, looking at me blankly and involuntarily displaying her delicate limbs, which were just as I had imagined them. I remained on my knees, contemplating her lower limbs, my eyes wide and my mind blocked. After a few eternal seconds, she took her shoes and started running. I didn't see her again.
The next day, a cold telegram informed us that he would no longer work with us. And I learned that in a phone call he told our boss that he didn't want to have deranged co-workers.
Perhaps I have lost the woman of my life; I do not know. Now I do therapy, and my analyst thinks that mine is not serious. But I guess he doesn't understand; Sofia neither. I keep looking at female feet like nothing happened.