“Lady, it’s just a foot. You’re talking like I put it in your dinner plate.”
Susan, a woman of about 60 sitting next to me, twisted her face in disgust.
“That’s incredibly rude.”
Linda burst out laughing.
“Both of you need to relax. At your age, you shouldn’t get so upset over every little thing.”
At
that moment, I decided there was no point in arguing anymore.
“Fine,” I said calmly.
She smiled smugly, convinced she had won.
Twenty minutes later, Linda fell asleep.
Her bare foot was still just a few inches away from my elbow.
I stared at that foot for a long moment.
Then an idea popped into my head.
I leaned toward Susan.
“Will you help me? If she wakes up, just keep her distracted for a moment.”
“What are you planning to do?”
I whispered my plan into her ear.
Susan’s