Suddenly, his leg moved. Trish, who had still been looking at the massive foot, yelped and tried to scoot away from the table, but it turned out that the chair was bolted to the floor. The shoe rested right on top of the tiny table, which made a screeching noise under the unfathomable weight resting upon it. The edge of it hit the smoothie pouch; electric blue liquid squirted out across the table in a whimsical shining streak. Trish found herself face-to-face with a wall of polished leather. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again; on the shiny surface of the leather she saw a shadow of a handprint. Someone had touched it. Some woman with greasy hands.

"You can call me Bill", the man informed them from above. "Got these new shoes the other day and need some help breaking them in. One of you is gonna help me out".

Trish still felt like a fish out of water. How could they possibly help him?.. She heard Olivia say something unintelligible. But that sound drowned as suddenly the leather creaked, flexed, moved; the man held it down with his other foot and popped his socked heel out, letting a wave of warm, odorous air wash over the two women (and some neighboring tables). He pulled his foot halfway out; a monolith clad in sweaty fabric, its outline visible through the sock clinging to the skin. Trish froze as she watched his. It was right on top of the table in front of her, oh God, it was so close, what could he possibly want, what is the point...

"One of you, dive in", the man above ordered. "Don't care which one".

Trish finally unfroze. She lifted her eyes, met his gaze, her face a pale mask of pure shock. "What?"

She saw Liv shaking her head.

"Can't hear you, but don't make me wait", the man said. "My break's almost over. One of you is going to be an insole. Hurry up".

The two women looked at each other in disbelief, both at a loss of words, both hoping it was some kind of a sick joke. But the man was still there.