It started with the green shoes. They were covered in a sort of supple material, possibly velvet or velour. I have always detested that word, velour. It sounds sour and carries an air of pretention.
It started with the green shoes. They were pointed with four inch stiletto heels. A bit excessive if you ask me. We were at a house party for Christ’s sake.
It started with the green shoes. All she did was blab incessantly about them: where she bought them, how much they cost, it was a never ending volume of information on the hideous commodity.
It started with the green shoes. She was far too heavy to be wearing stilettos to begin with, her fat legs, twirling at the ankles, resembling sausages stuffed into two small casings. Yet, on top of that plump thigh, your hand rested. Your attraction to her always baffled me. I…
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