The soles of her feet

She jumps off her bike and knocks the girl over, shouting and kicking her in the head and stomach. There are men with them, they raise their voices and step in, pulling them away from each other. Just further on, a pink pool of cherry blossom lies under a naked tree. I pick one up, as if it might help. It has no scent. The tissue-thin petals are as soft as the soles of that fighting woman's feet when she was a baby.