While sitting in a study carrol looking the window on the top floor of the library, I didn't read but wrote what will never be prose

I could never figure out why your feet looked so different from everyone elses. They had a different shape and extreme length. I went shopping yesterday and bought 'fancy' socks like you always bought and probably still buy. As I put them on, my feet weren't the same feet that caused my physiotherapist to ask "How do you stay upright with feet that small?" My feet became the long, narrow feet I became so accustomed to seeing poking out of your dirty jeans. I put on my dirtiest pair of painted bellbottoms and danced in my room to happy dance music. I miss you in the style of a Jane Austen character or a Tegan and Sarah song, which is to say that I miss you terribly. Just don't call, okay?