He at first thought that he had noticed her only because her shoes were red.  They were tall and red to the very tiny tip of the heel, and they moved with a precision only unerring focus could make possible.  He imagined in them a woman already tall, with hair that bounced and clothes that flowed, and when he looked up from the shoes he was right on all but the hair. It was bunched high atop the head.  She looked as tall as she could be and not be on stilts.  He wondered if it took people being completely absorbed in something about themselves to draw the attention of others.  He wouldn’t, after all, have followed just any pair of red shoes.  It must have been the tiny tip of the heel, which, in making her focus so thoroughly on herself, made her alert, alive, so irreducibly seductive to him.