Transformation of Style
I stared at the rows of shoes in the window, imagining myself lying surrounded by masses of them. I grinned at the picture in my head. I could live happy in that nest for days.
The plethora of styles beckoned me through the door. A sales girl bounced into view and sat me down. After a fifteen minute whirlwind, I was walking away from the shop four inches taller. Rows of tiny, metallic, triangles glittering on my calves.
These boots may not be the fountain of youth, but I swear time pauses a little every time I take a step.