On our first date, I wore suede Ferragamo pumps, several inches high, the same pair I had worn to college graduation. They were the nicest pair of anything I owned. In his darkened, curtained apartment, he asked me to take them off. He said,
It was three in the afternoon. He lived on one of the top floors of a downtown high-rise. The air was stale, as if the place had been uninhabited for long periods of time. He hadn't spent much time at home lately, he had told me, because his job at the investment firm [redacted] had been so demanding. He held my hands as I stepped out of the Ferragamos, and I revealed myself to be very small.