Foot Worship, Mysterious Guests

1. You are lacing and unlacing my patent leather boots while I sit in a red velvet wing-back chair and read The New Yorker. Your lacings and unlacings become more and more complicated, more and more time consuming, more and more fun for you. You end with a grand finale you call "Jumpstart," an intricate and beautiful pattern of knots that circle my foot entirely.

2. A group of people come to my apartment when I am in the shower and, obviously, not expecting them. I yell for them to make themselves comfortable while I quickly finish washing my hair. I whip up a batch of fruit smoothies at the sink in my bathroom but when I go out to greet my guests, they have already left, or they were never really there at all.