Cinderella Wears Patent Leather, On This I Tell You No Lie

by Catalina M. Ocasio

I saw the shoe myself, stranded at the Long Beach station of the LIRR. It was nestled in the crossbars of a metal support beam, humming sadly.

“Why do you hum such a heart wrenching tune?” I asked, the no nonsense patent leather shoe.

The shoe sighed dramatically, a couple of times, before replying, “I’ve been lost! Not minute ago life was grandgrandgrand! I was holding a dainty foot that always tasted of peaches and oil dipped sand. Now you tell me, could life get any better than that? What shall I do?”

Maybe sighs are contagious, I don’t know for sure, but for its sad tale I sighed just as dramatically and asked, “Is there anything I could do to help ease your suffering?”

It didn’t even take a second for the shoe to answer, “Well,” it sounded coy, “Do you think you could slip me on? It would comfort me so.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “Really, you could have been anywhere. Did your lady have corns? Any fungi I should be aware of?”

“Oh no, no, no!” The shoe shouted. I think if it could’ve shook a fist at me it would’ve. “My lady was spring clean! Fresh mountain waters through fields of lilac tree clean! High tide on a beach clean! Green-”

“Okay!” I interrupted. The shoe whimpered a bit at my tone, but come now, I still had a train to catch. “What size are you?”

“Six and a half.” It sounded so proud of itself.

I looked down at my own feet and felt monstrous, “Sorry to tell ya, but I’m an eight.”

“Oh well,” it sang, “I’ll just have to sit here and hopehopehope my lady comes back to me.” I nod glumly at this, seemed the right thing to do. Empathic, that’s me.

“Well, there’s the last call for my train. Did you want me to stick you someplace more visible?”

“No, I’m fine where I am. Heights really aren’t all that bad.”

“Alright then, bye,” I said, and then thought again, “Hey, what was your lady’s name?”

“Cinderella.”

Of course...