Sara doesn’t remember when she was bitten by the bug that infected her with the incurable desire to possess shoes in as many colors and styles as possible but one look in her closet will confirm she’s as riddled with the disease as any woman can be.
As a writer she works from home, spending most of her time barefoot in worn jeans and oversized t-shirts. In her world a casual-day outfit is a set of sponge bob pjs. Yet somehow the announcement of a shoe sale prompts her to go into predator mode and rush to her favorite store in search of something wonderful.
Receiving a well stocked gift card for her birthday, she gave herself the day off and headed to the mall. Lipstick and eye shadow applied, dressed in skinny jeans with a flirty little top and shoes more than likely purchased at last season’s closeout bonanza, she was ready for some serious shopping.
Fully prepared to take as long as necessary to find the perfect style to inject a bit of fun or mystery into her life, she let her imagine wander as she thrilled at being out from behind her computer in the middle of the day. Perhaps she’d a find a strappy little number with just the right nuance to suggest a romantic flirtation. She’d snap them up, eager to pose seductively for her husband some evening when the kids were at Grandma’s for the weekend.
With the writers conference on the horizon, she’d look for a pair of alligator pumps for a bit of aggressive confidence when scheduled to pitch her novel. Sandals have their season, she reminded herself, as do knee high boots and stiletto heels. There are ballet slippers to for days of efficient production and bunny slipper options for nights spent lazing in front of the fire. The possibilities seemed endless.
She spent hours walking from display rack to display rack shaking her head, issuing one rejection after another, wondering if she’d find anything suitable. Frustrated and a little cranky she was about to give up when she spotted a lovely pair of sling backs in just the right color to go with the skirt she planned to wear for lunch with her critique group the following week. Finally, she whispered, grabbing them from the pile of merely ordinary options.
She slipped them on marveling at how well they fit, admiring the detailed workmanship that told her they had been crafted by a skilled professional. One who had taken the time to combine form and style taking a classic idea in a new direction.
Driving home she hummed in celebration of her good fortune. It isn’t often that what she wants is available just when she needs it. So many times something that would have been perfect last season didn’t fit at all when she came across it.
Stopping briefly at the Post Office on her way home she gathered up her latest manuscript submission hoping that this time the enclosed self-addressed stamped envelope would not come back containing another rejection letter. It shouldn’t be this hard, she sighed.