“I’m going to be an entomologist,” Isabelle says. Her dress doesn’t have a pocket, or she’d have brought one of her pets. Her hands feel empty.
“Sounds great, sweetheart,” her mother says, arranging her hair on her shoulders and ushering her toward the stage. “This time, smile for the judges.”
For a year or so we lived in Boulder. One day by chance we drove by Jonbenet Ramsey’s house. It still haunts me.
Mommy bought me a new pair of shoes. I am not allowed to get them dirty at all. New shoes are extra special, Mommy says.
A mean man stepped in a puddle and splashed my shoes today. I punched his face.
Mommy says faces are even specialer than new shoes.
This story was based on the prompt “new shoes” at TypeTrigger.
It stepped gingerly from floor tile to floor tile, peering through the panes of glass with eyes widened by wonder and awe.
“Why ya gettin’ all googly-eyed?” asked a child. “Ain’tcha never seen a candy store before?”
It hadn’t. And its translator was broken.
It felt threatened. It reacted poorly.
This story was based on a title suggested by @Keab42.