Cinderella

Entering the quiet house, a thunderous silence greeted Lisa.

She flipped through her mail. As usual, the only men who remembered her were named Bill, utility and cable.

Finding her usual spot on the couch, she unpinned her hair, letting it cascade onto her delicate shoulders.

Reaching for her shoes, she remembered him. If he were here he would remove them, like he always did. That would be followed by a soothing rub and perhaps a loving kiss on her toes.

She sighed.

Hours later she lay deep in her recliner; wrapped in her thick white bathrobe. A diet coke and remote rested in her lap.

An annoying commercial interrupted the programming.

Her gaze fell upon her uncovered pale feet in desperate need of a pedicure.

She wondered what he would be doing if he were here right now. She smiled. She knew the answer. Painting her toe nails or massaging her tired feet.

No doubt, he would shower her with attention.

When he first spoke of his connection to her feet, she laughed and called him a stupid ape. She remembered his stupid grin when he called her Cinderella.

Then, came the days she actually envied her feet.

Now she missed the damn chimp.

 

A Few Notes:

The inspiration for this came from prior conversations with old girl friends and a recent one with my daughter’s mother.

The being referred to as an “ape/chimp” actually started with my high school sweetheart.

Please note: My butterflies have always bestowed the pleasure of shoe removal on moi.

It’s easy to make this chimp happy.