“Those shoes weren’t made for this weather,” he says holding my broken stiletto.
“Can I ask you in for coffee?”
“I never have coffee with strangers,” I say.
If I see him tomorrow, he won’t be so strange, salting his walk. He may feel like coffee, and I’ll have better shoes on. Peter Pan getaway boots if need be. You can never be too careful, take— Little Red Riding Hood. Her lesson, beware of strangers, there isn’t a woodcutter on every corner