The bathroom is small, and you look up at the ceiling. The cobweb in the corner of an otherwise hollow space. Not quite clothed, not quite dressed appropriately for your seat sideways in the bathtub, your boots laced tight and pants tucked in, you sit – pulled toward so many directions.
Upright
The wings on your ankles flutter, pulling your feet and heavy shoes off the floor for moments at a time. They’re so determined, so ready to go, but it isn’t quite time. All you would need to do is stand – you know this – but it would also take a level of control not everyone understands. It’s easy to jump up, less easy to aim with these things on.
Reversed
So there you sit, in a bit of an awkward position for anyone who might come in, but you know better. The fantastic boots could do so much of the work, but you sit, watching – learning about them and how they might be aimed. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. Whether that’s true or not, that fantastic footwear seems to have a mind of its own, and could easily trip you up with its own interest. Jumping up doesn’t guarantee making it out the door, or even back to the bathtub. And so they keep fluttering, and you keep pondering.
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