These Boots Are Made For… (Jane Doe Flash Fiction)

Jane shrinks back into her corner, trying for invisibility. Office birthdays. She hates them.

She hides behind her slice of cake, eying the other women, each one wearing fashion boots with the onset of autumn. Ankle-high, calf-high, thigh-high, like who thinks those are appropriate unless your job title is Dominatrix? Black, brown, trimmed with fur, leopard pattern, silver work, buckles. All sleek, all stylish. All expensive.

She shoves her own feet back under her chair, hoping no one has noticed the clunky black Wellies she was fortunate enough to find at the thrift store.

Her luxury is dry feet.

StockSnap

Every week, Charli Mills hosts a flash fiction challenge at the Ranch. This week’s prompt: “In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes boots. Whose boots are they, where do they go and what is their significance? Go where the prompt leads.”

Author: Deborah Lee

I like trees, dreaming, magic, books, paper, floating, dreaming, rhinos, rocks, stargazing, wine, dragonflies, trains, and silence to hear the world breathe.

8 thoughts on “These Boots Are Made For… (Jane Doe Flash Fiction)”

  1. It’s sad that we should even think dry feet to be a luxury in a nation with so much. Your flash really shows the gap between those who have more than is fashionably sensible and those struggling to stay dry. Good one!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It makes me sad to think that in this world someone has to think of dry feet (or enough food to eat every day, or a roof over one’s head) as a luxury. I think your story might be more than norm.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s