The Perfect Hem.
The train is going north and a bit of snow is hitting the window. A woman in jeans is sitting across from me. I can see the night blur in the window behind her. Her hair dangles to her glasses as she reads “Catcher in the Rye”. The not-so-gentle bump of the train pushes people together, and when we go through the tunnel I watch the standing riders sway. At Government Center Station, the woman folds her book into her leather bag. She rises to exit the train and for the first time I see her in stature. The first thing I notice is her shoes – patent pumps worn and creased by years. The second thing is the way her jeans hang at perfect length over her shoes, almost touching the ground but not quite. As she leaves the train, I note how much depends on a perfect denim hem as seen on a woman’s leg.