The Boots Of My Mother

The doorbell rang and I walked at the front door. I opened the door and there was no one. Then I noticed my mother’s new suede boots in front of the door, standing on the art deco tiles of the patio. Only her feet were inside it, with pieces of her legs. Her legs were just chopped off in her boots and now only her boots stood there. The insides of her legs looked like roast beef but there was no blood at all. I looked at her remains in the boots with fright. I didn’t want her feet to walk into the house. Her feet without her body really scared me as if it were feet of a crook.

Buter