A Moment of Irony
The irony was plain to see.
I wandered the city centre, waiting. Watching for moments, for stories. For something human to unfold.
The day was cold and gray. People wore their coats tight against it. The mood matched the weather—dull, uneasy, with no promise of sun.
Then I saw her. She came through the precinct with her friend, hobbling on an injured foot. A bandage wrapped tight, a medical boot locked firm. She leaned on her stick, but she moved steady. Determined.
And that’s when I noticed the shop she was passing.
“Don’t be cruel,” I thought.
But the name was there, big and bold: Foot Locker.
I blame my humour. My sense of irony. I shifted quick, framed the shot, and snapped it. No time for second thoughts.
Later, I wondered. Was I wrong? Was I mean-spirited? Or was it just funny?
Because in that moment, I chuckled. Quiet, but I did. And then I saw her look toward the shop window. A glance that seemed to say, “Maybe they’ve got a better boot in there.”
If the photo offends, I’m sorry. It wasn’t malice. Just a brief, absurd little moment.
That’s all it was.