The loud clump grabbed me first. I, in “How is the weekend already over?” mode, peered over the top of my book at the well-groomed woman sitting across from me in the subway car. We uncomfortably made eye contact. The trolley screeched to a halt as it approached the Harvard Square stop. My neighbor rose; my attention shifted from Kerouac down the floor, where, clad in a New Balance hiking boot, wool sock and air cast, was her left foot.
On her right foot? A Christian Louboutin patent leather pump.