Sat at my feet

I cried and cried as she sat at my feet. I tried to wipe the tears casually with my shoulder. My hands were unavailable. It was a manicure/pedicure. On her tiny rolling stool she was almost kneeling at my feet and I felt way too out of my element. It felt downright lenten. I am unworthy. She massaged my surprisingly shaven legs. I had forgotten … Continue reading Sat at my feet