The front room of the butcher’s house was filled with the smell of meat, and my grandfather had stood and looked around at the smoked hams and sausages hanging from the rafters, soup bones and square bacon slabs in the cold vitrine, the skinned red lamb with its sharp little teeth lying on the block while Luka, his glasses hanging around his neck, cleaved the bone of the leg away. My grandfather was leaning in to look at jars full of something brined and white and lumpy behind the counter when the butcher smiled at him and said: “Pig’s feet. Delicious. They’re a lot like children’s feet, actually.
The Tiger’s Wife by Tea Obreht
Navy Converse and Deery shoes*
We took the train to free museum day over spring break. The girls whispered to each other, fell against each other laughing, swung their dangling feet, were very sweet to each other and proved to us that they are still best friends. It made me very happy.
* I wish they came in my size…
