“Al!” Came a voice from the bathroom as my fingers were dancing on the keyboard. Worried and horrified I ran towards the bathroom and found that it was locked.
“What happened Angel? Are you okay?” I asked.
“I am fine. Would you mind to wipe up the water please? I think I sent a lot of it outside. I am coming out and you please wipe the water.” You said.
I wiped the seat off my brow and took a breath of relief. My little Angel if she would have fallen then? Poor little baby would have hurt herself for sure. She’s so delicate like a structure made of ash. One wrong move and she collapses.
She came out from her bath with a towel on her hair and her blue capri and red top. She was looking so beautiful as she passed me a beautiful lovely smile. Her feet had anklet on which made a little jingling sound with her every step.
She left behind a trail of feminine footprints and I swear they were so beautiful. In that moment I realized that it’s not that it is females that are pretty, but their feminism.
The footprint was smaller than mine and had beautifully circular toes. The ankle too on the footprint was circular and not oval like mine. The footprint had ridges and edges which just added to their feminism. There was a perfect print of the foot before and after every footprint. I leaned down and touched the print with a touch so delicate as if it was as fragile as my Angel.
A few moments later, when Angel returned, she saw that I wiped up the water but decided to let her footprints stay.