While phone games that require you to go out and about may have been a fad, a new update every now and then is a great excuse to get out of the house and smell the fresh air. Even if you aren't one to appreciate the weather, you can't deny it feels great today. You've been out for about an hour or so in a more rural part of town, enjoying your walk and making progress in the game. All the buildings here are very old, and long abandoned, but even in this run-down part of town, the crime rate is practically non-existent. There's basically no one here to commit any crimes in the first place. More importantly to you, there's no competition for AR games for miles. Maybe you should at least look up from your phone and pay attention to where you're walking. You might walk into something, or someone.

Pow!

You stumble to the ground, briefly dazed, but not terribly hurt. What did you run into? It felt like a person, but in this part of town? Enough speculation. You get your bearings together, and open your eyes. You see the blue sky above, and slowly stand back upright. There's no doubt of what you walked into. A person lay on the ground in front of you. A tall, slender woman in a black bikini top and blue jeans, though you don't quite get a look at her face before your instincts kick in.

You reach your arm out to help her up, and she feels around before allowing you to help her up. You don't quite visually process her face. Something seems off. Time seems to slow as your brain processes what you're seeing. Wait. That's not a face. That's not even a head! Everything about this woman appears normal except that where her head should be, is a human foot. You jolt back, stunned at the sight, causing her to lose her balance as well, though she does manage to right herself.

You take a moment to process what you're seeing and mentally understand it, but as you try to comprehend, you are distracted by the movements of her hands. Could that be sign language? Not only that, there appears to be a cane on the ground beside her. She must have dropped it when you walked into each other, so is she both deaf and blind? You don't see any eyes or ears, so it might be safe to assume so.

She reaches around on the ground for her cane. You instinctlively pick it up and hand it to her. She puts the cane's wrist strap on and continues to use sign language. Her body language appears stiff or startled, wait maybe flustered? It's hard to tell without a face. She also isn't making any vocal sounds either. You hope she's at least not angry.

You snap out of your daze and try to communicate. "A-are you alright? I don't understand what you're..."

No reaction to your words. She continues to sign. You wave your arms. No reaction. Your assumptions about her being blind and deaf seem to be correct. A million different theories are racing through your mind as to who, or even what this woman is, all of which are interrupted by the sound of snapping fingers. You return your attention to her, and see that she's waving her arms around, then she begins rhythmically tapping her cane on the ground.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.

It's a familiar rhythm that you instantly recognize. It's Morse code for SOS. Maybe you could communicate using Morse code? If only you knew it off the top of your head... Wait, you have a phone! You pull up a Morse code translator website on your phone and begin typing. You push the translate button. You follow along and tap her shoulder, spelling out 'Hello.'

She flinches, but responds with a few taps of her cane. You put the rhythm into your phone and translate. It reads 'Sorry bump you. Guide dog ran. Need help to address.'

You are unsure how to properly respond, so end up only replying with 'OK.'

You translate the next rhythmic pattern of taps. It's an address, and close by. You hold your arm out and let her hold onto it. You have to nudge closer. Now she knows what you're doing, and holds your arm. You enter the address into your GPS and begin following the route. You use the instructions of the GPS as a distraction away from her appearance. Occupy your mind. The thought of someone having a foot for a head might seem comical, and maybe it would be if you only saw a picture of her, but having her right beside you, and moving in three dimensions, it's uncanny. Nay, it's downright harrowing.

A few minutes into the walk, and you feel like you can't ignore the imagery before you. You look directly at her. Her head is indeed just a foot. A fairly large one at that, and the sole faces forwards as if it were her face. The large toes move every now and then. Why are they actually moving? Twitching? Your brain is constantly trying to tell you that what you're looking at isn't real. Maybe it's just a prosthetic mask? No, even with how large this foot is, a there wouldn't be anywhere to fit the wearer's nose or the upper-back of the head. You need to find a way to digest the visual information you're receiving. You look down, and realize that her shoes are large enough to fit the foot that emerges from her neck. All three feet must be slightly longer than a normal human head, and slightly wider too. Wait, are her socks are mismatched?

You shake off the thought and bring your gaze back up, though just shy of her neck as to avoid the frankly disturbing sight. She has a few moles on her shoulder and another just below her belly button. Another thing you realize while looking in that general location is that the zipper on her pants is down, revealing a notably large patch of dense, curly hair. It's the only visible hair on her body, and it seems to be brown, but maybe a bit reddish? She's blind, so maybe she didn't notice that her fly is down? Wait, is she even wearing... You realize that it's not polite to stare there. You instinctively dart your eyes back to her face, or lack thereof, and are immediately stunned by the sight of a foot once more, almost losing your balance. You recompose yourself.  The address is just around the corner.

A more steps and you see a fairly pristine looking house among the run-down houses. It's old-fashioned, but very well kept. You also see a large white dog getting bigger. Oh wait it's not getting bigger, it's-

Boom!

You fall the the ground once more, the wind knocked out of you from the weight of a massive dog on top of you. The weight is lifted shortly after and you regain your bearings. You look around and see the dog receiving belly rubs by the strange foot-faced woman. You might not be able to see any facial features on her, but this body-language is very obvious. You feel much more comfortable being able to gauge this emotion. She's obviously happy to be with her dog again.

She lets the dog get back up, and grabs the leash. You recognize the dog to be wearing guide dog equipment, but you've never seen a guide dog this big. Actually, you've never seen a dog this big in general. She leads the oversized dog to the pristine house. You feel ready to take your leave, but you notice she's motioning you to follow. Your curiosity is getting the better of you. You step onto the porch and let her feel your arm to let her know you're following.

As you enter the house, she puts her cane beside the door and brings the dog to a room off to the side. You hear the sound of dog food being poured into a metal bowl. You shut the door behind you. She walks over to a desk in the corner of the main room and motions you to follow and sit at the desk chair. There's a computer with a text editor on screen, though not a text editor that you're familiar with. She begins typing into the document.

You read the words that appear onscreen. 'Sorry for the hassle, I think another dog scared Sparky off while I was distracted. Anyways, thank you for helping me return home and reunite with him. Can I get you anything, coffee, tea?' She slides the keyboard in your direction.

You look at it. It's a normal keyboard, but with braille instead of printed letters. It's not a problem since you remember where all the keys are located. You type in your response. 'It's no problem, really. And coffee is fine, thank you. I didn't get your name, and if you don't mind me asking about your' You pause for a few seconds. 'unique situation?'

She's running her fingers over a rectangular device next to the computer. It instantly clicks in your mind that this must be a braille reader, and that's how she's able to read what you write. She moves over to the keyboard and types her response. 'Right, introductions. Hi, I'm Valery. It's nice to meet you. Let me pull up some more information that should help clear some things up.' She begins using the keyboard in tandem with the braille reader to pull up a file from her desktop.

You begin to read the file. It seems to be a synopsis of some sort of dairy, at least, based on the writing style. It's fairly lengthy but you can get the gist of it. It says that she once got very sick, until a Fae creature of some sort saved her life, but she had no way to repay the Fae. The Fae decided that putting Valery on the receiving end of a cruel prank would work as payment, and turned her head into a foot. That all sounds frankly unbelievable. At the end is a "look on the bright side" section that includes 'At least I don't require food or water anymore, though I still wish I was still able to eat and drink.' You extrapolate that she's desperately trying to find positives in this situation, and maybe failing.

Despite what you just read, you find it hard to believe. As far as you know, there have never been any true instances of Fae, but you can't deny what you're seeing right beside you. You have no reason to believe that she's lying. You notice that there's an embedded image at the end of the file, and open it. It's a picture of her before the transformation. Just as you suspected, reddish brown hair. You wouldn't really consider her to have had an attractive face, but she could still be considered cute. You look back and forth between the photo and the woman with a foot for a head. You notice that there's a mole below one of her eyes in the photo, and similarly, a mole is in a similar position on the sole of her mysterious third foot.

You return to the text document, and begin typing. 'I don't know how to process all of this. At least, are you okay?'

She types. 'I am now. I do still kind of miss having any sense other than just touch, but I have gotten used to it over the past few years. Also I just realized I haven't brewed your coffee yet. Please excuse me for one moment.'

You watch as she leaves and enters the kitchen. There are braille labels on everything. She begins brewing a cup of coffee in a fairly fancy machine, showcasing surprising dexterity on her part. She brings to you a tray with the freshly brewed mug, with creamer and sugar on the side.

You realize that she has a coffee machine even though she can't drink. You return to the computer. 'If it's alright for me to ask, why do you have drinks if you can't drink?'

'Oh, I live with my parents. I usually make coffee for them, but they're out of town at the moment. Dad messed up his leg pretty bad the other day, and mom's visiting him at the hospital.'

'Sorry, I hope he gets better soon. But isn't it dangerous to go out if you're the only one home?'

'I have my guide dog, Sparky with me. but I do see what you mean. I just like how the fresh air feels on my skin, and no one comes around this part of town anyway. At least until you, but I'm happy to have guests. Dad's usually the one to accompany me when I jog, but I don't think I'll be able to do that anytime soon with his leg messed up and all.'

You contemplate for a moment. 'I think I'll be coming around this part of town regularly anyways, if you'd like for me to be a jogging partner?'

'Really? That would be great! Thank you. Right, what was your name?'

You respond by typing your name to her.

'Nice to properly meet you.' She pauses. 'I know you can see me, and I must look super weird, but you know I can't see you. I'm sorry if this is an uncomfortable thing for me to ask, so you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Is it alright if I could touch and 'see' your face?' She raises her hands towards you, palm open.

Might as well, you guide her hands to your face. They're warm and tender as they gently slide across your facial features. You let go of her arms and allow her to explore. She strokes your eyebrows with her thumbs while rubbing your cheeks with her fingers. You close your eyes as she moves her thumbs over your eyelids. You feel the hands slide over your nose and mouth. This moment somehow feels both sensual and platonic.

She slowly removes her hands from your face, and begins typing once more. 'I'm sorry if that invaded your personal space.' She pauses once more, and begins typing slowly yet shakily. 'You can do the same if you want. Of course, I don't know if you want to touch a foot. Sorry for suggesting.'

You're flustered and conflicted. Would telling her 'no' hurt her feelings? It's hard to tell what she's thinking without any facial features whatsoever. Screw it. Reluctantly, you gently lay your wrists into her hands. She flinches, then eases up. She slowly guides your hands towards where her face would be.

The back of your fingers make contact. She winces. You feel the soft, warm flesh. You rotate your hands to let your palms touch the sole. You feel the already wrinkly sole become even more wrinkly as she scrunches her toes. This must be at least slightly ticklish to her. Your fingers now wrap around the sides of her foot-head. She releases her gentle grasp from your wrists. You're in control now.

You gently slide your thumbs across the surface, causing the skin to stretch as you rub. Even the tiniest of sudden twitches from your thumbs seem to cause her to flinch, though she isn't fighting it. You can only assume she's just very ticklish.

You slowly move your thumbs upwards, watching and feeling the ripples and wrinkles in her flesh. You would normally expect the skin on the bottom of a foot to be more firm, but maybe it's because she doesn't walk with this foot that the skin is so soft and malleable. As you continue to move your thumbs upwards, the abnormally large toes shift from scrunched, to spread out. There are five toes, and thus, four spaces between them. You let the intrusive thoughts win. You place your hand so that your fingers slide in between each toe.

She was obviously not expecting that. Abort mission? She just flinched very hard, causing her toes to scrunch over your fingers, locking them in place. You try to pull your hand out as her posture loosens, but she reaches out and gently grasps your arm, merely suggesting your arm to be held in place. You stop trying to pull your fingers out from her toes. Her grip on your fingers loosens, but doesn't fully go away. Why? It's not like she's holding your fingers hard enough to prevent you from pulling them out. She seems to be leaning towards you.

Her posture is becoming more vulnerable, and still she leans closer. What else can you do? You place your free arm around her back, and she doesn't flinch. Now, she's leaning directly up against you, and you can feel her heartbeat. She releases her tender grasp from your arm and wraps both arms around you. The two of you embrace. The entire situation is surreal, but you feel her heart beating faster. She gently strokes the back of your head. You're face to face, or would it be face to sole? There's a large enough area just below your gripping hand that you plant your forehead on the sole. Her entire posture becomes extremely relaxed, but her heart still races.

Minutes go by, and the two of you continue to embrace. You're at least glad that despite her having no sense of smell, she has excellent hygiene. Her posture briefly tenses, then she retracts from the embrace. The two of you release each other. She begins typing in the text document. 'I'm sorry, I got carried away. I haven't really had another person to interact with since mom and dad have been out.' She keeps typing something, then erasing, typing again, then erasing. She eventually makes up her mind. 'Thank you, I really needed that hug. Sorry for to keeping your day. Just, whenever you want to jog, or just if you want to hang out in general, here's my email.'