Betch

[After joining Sean in meeting Dennis for the latter's dinner break, jamming thru the Apple store to get Sean a new battery for his laptop, and quaffing a quick one at a financial district dive that shall remain nameless, we asked "what next?"]

[Next turned out to be what's becoming regular thing for us, rifling thru the bins at the Discount Shoe Warehouse on Powell Street. For me, upstairs where the full-price stuff is serves as just a time-killer as Sean looks for yet another pair of black shoes to wear out as the World's Flirtiest Cocktail Server. (I carefully steer him away from anything with a pointy toe or, heaven forbid, a tassel.) It's the basement, where the real discounts are, that get my attention.]

[There used to be a whole side down in the basement devoted to shoes for the mens, but now they seem to have deprioritized the Y-chromosomed. Four lonely rows to choose from, with the accompanying meager pickings. Hmph.]

[I pick up a hefty, sk8er-boy-esque white pair from World Industries (spring is right around the corner), and hold it over the rack to show Sean, who's making the best of it over in sizes 12-13.]

["Whaddaya think? With the discounted-discount, twenty bucks."]

["Not bad. Try 'em on."]

[They're maybe a little too hefty as I clomp over to Sean.]

["Maybe too...medical," he says.]

["Like...nurse's shoes?"]

["Inpatient."]

[It's only because of the basement's rotten acoustics that our laughter doesn't echo more.]

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