By Stacey Murray
The woman had sandals on, even though it was freezing outside. They were shiny red like an apple, with loads of tiny wee holes stabbed in them, her brown toes poking through. And the heels were really high—nothing like my mum’s shoes.
It was dead nice of her to let me try them on because her bare feet must’ve been cold on our kitchen tiles.
I’d always been his favourite girl till that morning.
He said he was moving away. With the woman. To the Philippines.
She was dead nice but, in a way, I wish she was just dead.
Loss and abandonment through feet. Really well conceived and written. I thoroughly enjoyed the read.
Wow l read that totally differently to the above comment and thought how clever to make me so uncomfortable in so few words.
Really enjoyed this; reflects a lot of just plain old human nature. A Winner.