She walked in pink shoes on the green muddy terrain. Her head remained down as she walked, watching where the wet blades of grass touched her feet in the ballet flats.
They will be boots one day, she thought. Black, perhaps. Waterproof, certainly.
She had just left the witch doctor’s shed where she had slept the night before in a surprisingly comfortable bed.
She will have her own bed someday, she thought.
Benton Ruisseaux 