At first, Sarah Fowler could not understand it. Toes could not be sad. She was trying to be fashionable, or sexy, exposing her toes in black sandals. Or she was trying to be proud, to be something by herself, to be someone who didn't need that man who never called her, the man she swore she would never call again. Maybe her eyes were sad, because they kept looking for him. She couldn't stop them. But toes are just toes. Yet somehow, she couldn't believe that this message was a false message. She thought again, and because her thinking had been fruitless she finally thought about how she thought.
Even though she was not a programmer, she thought that her toes were objects and objects cannot be sad. So she introduced a new thought, a new premise. If her toes are sad (she finally allowed this possibility), then her toes are not objects. But if they are not objects, what are they? They must be subject. And she realized: my toes are me.
She remembered the many times people had said things she did not understand, but she couldn't remember what they had said. Now that she had come to understand this one thing, imagine how much more she could understand. How exciting the world suddenly had become! For the first time, she honestly believed she could live and be happy without him. So she called him to let him know, and when she heard his voice she forgot everything she believed. Her gray toes became mysterious and beautiful.