At first, Bob’s shoes appear dusty, but as I bend, I see it’s not dust on them but a gritty powder. A deodorizer perhaps? The last thing I want is to sniff Bob’s shoe, but I do it. Then I rub some granules between my thumb and index finger. I smell them too. I even put a tiny particle to my tongue to make sure my senses aren’t failing me. They are not. Peanuts—ground peanuts. In Bob’s shoes.
