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.
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.”
99 Monkeys 
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!
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Thank you, as always!
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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.
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Me too, sadly.
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What a great take on the prompt. I felt the girls pain… ❤
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🙂 I’m going to be thinking about your Dominatrix line whenever I see those boot-clad women at my church. Yay for practicality!
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Thanks!
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