Flat Feet

Someone’s out there in the field.
I’d better check it out.
So, I follow the trail of footprints through the mud.
Big feet. Flat arches, too.
Who walks around in this field without shoes on? What kind of crazy person does that? They could step on a rock or a nail.
My feet ached at the thought of it.
I didn’t see anyone.
For an hour, I walked around the field, until I come back to where the trail started.
I looked down and realized that I am barefoot.
Oh. Right. I’m out here.
No wonder why my feet hurt.