Brown soul shoes

 Everything was suave and chic and a good dose of bling. Glamour suited her. Every word uttered was precious reinforced by the thumbs ups, the likes, the hugs & kisses. All virtual cheers, all showing the world how wonderful, charming, cute, happening she was. This was her world. She ruled this space. She mattered. She was the trend. And she wanted more.

She sat up on her bed hugging her knees in indecision. Her pink sheets with unicorn motifs complimented her new silk jammies. The coordination was deliberate, designed and well executed to look effortless. A hip song of some man and his car being the largest in the city, of him being the dirtiest man played loudly in the background. Her short-shorts were the newest on the block with the ripped back pockets. Save few threads, the structural integrity of the shorts was a point which was under deep research by some physicists.  A lock of hair protested in her hands and she won the battle putting it aside and taming it with a clip.

"What to donate?" she  declared to the empty room. 

"Right, lets see .." Pointing an imaginary gun at the series of cupboards, and aiming at each row and making  mental note. 

She felt magnanimous. She could already see the poor girls wearing her super-trendy clothes and feeling awesome about themselves. She thought of giving up the green one, the one with gold prints.  Oooh! the purple ones with silver fishes on them, everyone would love those! The cause was floods or fire or something in some part of the world she had never heard of. That never mattered. She would ask her manager. Maybe she could pack some water-proof gear that were so-oh!-last-year from a brand that had troubling image these days. Their lead designer was caught with some child. That fool! He ruined a good contract for her. 

Her thoughts switched through her wardrobe faster than light could reach the corners. She remembered them all. That was her special talent. She was lucky with picking the next trend. She looked good in everything! 

Her moderate fame and jingling posh money had given her the confidence she never had. Her own narration however varied from reality, well rehearsed and well vocalized a million times even before she ever got to narrate her story. 

She had already made herself the princess Di of our times. This donation, with the right coverage would put her on the same career path as Oprah! It was about playing the game right. Keeping the right image.  But, that's the thing, all the jazz aside, true character shows through the shoes you wear. Her true character lay hidden in a box. Still stained with grass and pigsty stains. She hid those shoes, too common, a dull brown, too country. They reeked of a the country air, fresh and green and unscented of Chanel No.5. There was no character to them, too innocent looking, especially the discolored light pink threads that made her fall in love with them the first time. Too guilty to part with her true self, betraying all those who put her here. Nana who gave all her savings for the trip to the city and Marcus who promised to wait. 

As she scrutinized every nook and corner in her room, she never touched that corner. Even as she piled and piled things for donation, she deliberately ignored that part of her soul. 

Hidden in a large cardboard box with gold motifs and light pink hearts lay those shoes. Those shoes loved the sun as much as her. They could hear the rustle. Many days had past, months or years, The shoes couldn't count. But, they waited with patience for a chance to step on soft grass again, breath fresh air again, feel the muddy scents again. Though they detested the filth of the pigs, but after this much time away, they even missed the scent. They lay there, hearing the rustle, hoping it was their day. They missed her little feet. She had very tough nails. She never cut them correctly. They might have pushed back on her nails with an intent once or twice. They did not regret that at all. One should know to cut their nails!

More rustling.

They became even more attentive. Closer than ever. 

Thud!

She was surely very close now! They tossed and turned and tumbled. They were ready for their moment in light again!

They found themselves rolling, banging against the walls of the box.

The light never came that night. Silence gain. Somehow it was warmer tonight. But still no light. Their heart sank, aching to be on their ground again.

Tonight, she lay there, curled up, on the pretty pink unicorns and her glossy silk jammies hugging her shoe box. Far more tightly for her comfort.  Still not ready to admit to herself that she wanted to go home.