She is aware of the contents of the bag and sniggers at the incongruities of her life. Within the bowels of her bag sit a clean pot which contained her lunch. There is a book of ritual for her Freemasons' Lodge. There is the a number of lipsticks, mostly in a bright red, some high end, some supermarket brands. There is a pair of ankle boots, which she was wearing before she put on her runners to walk to the tram stop. Although she likes the ankle boots, she has been hankering over the thought of buying a pair of biker boots - proper bike boots, which would also be seen as incongruous considering she works corporate jobs. She would love to wear those biker boots to work - the imaginary ones - she wishes she could justify their existence in her wardrobe. The aged Doc Martens will have to suffice for the time being. She knows that she feels sexy in biker boots. She'd love a leather jacket too, but the look in a warm climate is just too incongruous. She knows her part time lover loves her in boots, not that she obliges him very often.
She just likes the idea of all these items. Curly hair, red lipstick, biker boots. If she could pull off a mini-skirt and ripped stockings she would be in her element. She's a bit too old, she tells herself. the part time lover might like that too. He won't find out about this.
Ripped stockings. What was that old adage they used to have - a stairway to heaven. No fucking fear there.
There are other items in the rucksack. Bog standard. Her wallet and house keys. Some hair ties. A packet of mints. Some hand sanitiser. Some tampons which are well beyond their prime. A bottle of nail polish in a shade called "Berlin There, Done That". There's are two travel sized tubes of toothpaste and a leather and stone necklace.
She also can find a couple of articles of unopened mail and some assorted paperwork which needs to get to in the near future.
Best of all, there is an unopened bottle of Moet and Chandon Champagne - the real stuff (lower end of good, but still French Champagne) It makes her smile that she has this in her bag on a Monday afternoon.
Then she smiles at these incongruities of her life, knowing that if she was to fall on some accident, people would wonder just what sort of person she might be going by the contents of her bag.
Little do they know, she's just a girl who would happily front up in biker boots and a mini-skirt, rather than the drab corporate garb that adorns her frame.
Song of the day:
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