" Love and Shoes" by Nsgood

[esercito sconfitto]

nsgood


Love and Shoes.
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The thick Boston fog covered the sleepy college town. It was a beautiful fall morning and the leaves were in that beautiful turning stage. What was once green was turning to brown, but some green things didn't get the hint.

She watched her. To an outsider, her cold green eyes were just something expected of a student in this university, but behind her eyes told a different story. Her whore mom bouncing from john to john, and each john leaving her with a memorable blemish. The small nick under her eye still twitches when it rains. But there was no rain today. Only her.

Her. With her beautiful pink sundress and long blonde hair. Her diamond earrings and matching tennis bracelet. Her light brown leather jacket and matching Tory Burch bag. And those shoes. My God. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

They were a t-strap design. Nude colored with a buckle at the top and a dazzling platform design in the sole. From there a cross strap formed into a circle that connected into the T and ended in a quaint peep toe.

She had a pair just like them. Only they were in black. Maybe she was just like them after all. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but she had nine lives. What's one more?

Why was she staring at her? That odd girl with the green eyes and cheap shoes. Didn't she know that her family practically owns the university? Bradley was supposed to pick her up five minutes ago to brunch with each other's families in anticipation for the big wedding. It didn't matter. She hated Bradley. His loud boorish mouth, his over inflated sense of entitlement. She knew he cheated on her. It was okay. She knows what's expected of her. College is merely a formality. And she needs the money. But she didn't have to tolerate this. As she reached for her cell phone, the green eyed girl made her approach.

"Hey, blondie." Her voice was gruff and distinctive, yet feminine. It matched her 5'9 frame. Her red hair and penchant for denim indicated a working class Irish background. Not uncommon for a Bostonian.

"Yes..." The petite blonde began to back away with each breath.

"I really like those shoes you're wearing, I think I have a pair just like them." The redhead insisted.

"These are Yves Saint Laurent, these are $500 shoes." The blonde stated matter of factly.

Not before long, the blonde realized exactly what she said and the initial words that the woman in front of her had echoed. This was a robbery and she just showed her hand.

"LISTEN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT BUT I DON'T THINK YOU REALIZE WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO."

The redhead was taken aback. She had begun to explain that she had the same pair. A knockoff Steve Madden pair that a boyfriend had gotten her for Christmas.

"IF YOU WANT MY SHOES, TAKE THEM. THEY'RE YOURS. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE." She had taken them off and offered them as a peace offering dangling from her manicured hand.

Suddenly the mood had changed from bewilderment, to distain. The green eyed monster had taken over in the woman, and suddenly her defensive instinct took over. The blonde had made a grievous error.

The denim clad beauty had begun a vicious assault. Savage lefts and rights had been unleashed upon the blonde beauty's face. The punches had turned her once crystal blue eyes to black. She held her own though. Eventually, the two made it into the street and past the lush campus gates.

Bradley was coming off of an early happy hour. He always had a few fireballs before driving anyway. It made it fun. He had to make a coffee run though, Amanda could easily smell it on his breath. And she was the one good thing he knew he did right. He loved her. So much, but he knew she'd never love him the same. As he was coming up on the campus, there seemed to be a disturbance. "Some rich girl is getting her ass HANDED to her." After a few more examinations, it was her. Amanda. Bradley scrambled for the brakes.

She never really saw the car. Or Bradley for that matter. Maybe it was because her eyes had swollen shut. But she knew she was dying. And she was. She could feel the blood curdling from inside her mouth. She could see her redheaded assailant slipping into her trophies, those coveted YSL heels. With a sigh of resignation, she looked up at Bradley and knew she was going home. After hearing Bradley, she knew just how much he loved her and she attempted to reciprocate. But it was too late. She was gone. Limp in his arms. And he only had himself to blame.