How her feet hurt in those new penny loafers as they both ran to catch the bus. “Slow down, please!” It was so difficult to keep up with an adult who wasn’t hampered by ugly new shoes. Leaping up the stairs of the bus and dashing down the aisleway to the last seats available, she knew without a doubt those loafers were going to cause a nasty blister on at least one heel.
Oh, how hot it was on that bus. All the windows were down but the wicked stepmother got to sit next to the window and the little girl with the hurting heels sat in the aisle seat bumping up against a rather large man on the opposite side of the bus. He was sweating profusely. The bus was crowded that day and the young girl hoped with all her might their trip would soon end. She had recently worked on vocabulary words at school. Recalling the word “aromatic”; the child thought it a perfect word for that bus. She smiled to herself for a quick moment. It was going to be a long day.
Arriving at their bus stop, she was hurriedly pushed off the bus toward their destination, that ugly lump of hospital looming on the horizon. She didn’t want to go there. Her feet hurt even worse than before; she was hot and sweaty, and not looking forward to what was coming.
Inside the hospital, the smells changed drastically. There was disinfectant, strong perfumes, and a strange odor she couldn’t identify. She hoped it had nothing to do with dead or old people as she knew that’s what happened in hospitals; you go there to die. At least that’s what they told her had happened to her real mother. She never was quite sure of the story.
Into the doctor’s office she was propelled and quickly found a seat, slipping out of those nasty loafers she had been forced to wear. Why would anyone wear brand new shoes knowing full well a day of walking was ahead? She sat and pondered her position in life and realized she had no say in anything.
As her name was called, she put on her new loafers over the raw patch on her heel and limped into her future.
Parchment Monkey 