‘Her Feet Hurt’, a short story by Evelyn Hood
Over the last two years, during various lockdowns, we had a chance to re-organise Evelyn’s files and during that exercise we re-discovered large amounts of unpublished short stories, poems, pantomimes and plays. Evelyn kindly allowed us to publish these early works, mainly written on a typewriter, on her website.
Her Feet Hurt
It wasn’t fun, she thought to herself, to spend all day on her feet. Nobody could enjoy life when their feet hurt. She longed for the day’s work to be done, so that she could go home and get her aching feet into a basin of warm water. Then she would put on a pair of old, shabby slippers and get her feet up.
Going home, though, would entail a walk to the subway, then she would probably have to stand all the way to her station. Then another walk, followed by a climb up the stairs. Then- but would she ever get to that blissful moment when she would be able to slip off her shoes and get her poor feet into that basinful of water?
Funny how feet were so important, yet so neglected, she mused as she waited. They were a joke, really- feet. Yet without them, what would people do? Best foot forward, putting your foot in it, putting both feet in it, stepping out, putting your foot down. Her feet ached in time to her thoughts, throb, throb, throb. One foot in the grave, a toe in the door, poor souls, rotten heels – throb, throb, throb.
The shoe on the other foot. She wondered, briefly, if she had put the shoe on the other foot, and that was why her feet hurt. A quick glance showed that she hadn’t. No, they were only tired. Poor old feet – about twenty years older than the rest of her, she reckoned. Pity they hadn’t come up with foot transplants yet. She’d be first in line- standing in the line too, with her luck.
She lifted her gaze from her own feet to other feet passing by. They all moved quickly, lightly. They were all carrying their owners without any trouble at all. Her own unhappy feet hurt even more at the sight of those light-hearted, happy feet that never looked as though they felt as much as a twinge. Oh, for a basin of warm water and a chair!
Someone nudged her. In the distance a voice began to intone, using her name. “And now, here is Natalie, wearing a smart two-piece business-suit with tie-neck blouse in the same shade as the lining. New-look length to the skirt- the ideal little number for stepping out on the town.”
Along the catwalk, turn, turn back, along the catwalk again with an easy, relaxed step, a carefree smile on her lips, a deftly casual swing to demonstrate to best advantage the expensive, silky suit that fitted her lovely figure like a glove.
But oh, how her feet hurt.
Copyright Evelyn Hood