Red Shoes by Eddie Kirsch

“Fancy,” I said, sipping a Tom Collins. I watched her as she watched herself in the mirror.


I pointed to the three wine bottles that held three white candles.

“That. That’s fancy.”


She looked into her eyes searching deep through her pupils, looking to find what was inside. I chomped a piece of ice, and laid back on her bed, waiting for nothing to happen. She swayed side to side, and I could hear the swish of her skirt.

“Hey, what do you think about this?”

I lifted my head; she was holding two pairs of shoes, juxtaposing one color to another.

“Well, I think they both look fine.”

“I can’t trust you on anything.”


“Don’t say sorry, you say that to much.”

“Well, I am though.”

“You’re a mess.”

I knew I was and she didn’t have to say it and if I had more pride I would have left. I felt water collect on the outside of my glass. I thought eventually if I stayed quite for long enough she might feel sorry.

Dismissing my silent pleas, she swayed to the kitchen and swished back with a bottle of something yellow.

“Let’s take a shot.”

The taste of tequila sizzled down my throat.

“The red ones,” I said.

“What?” She replied.

Sometimes I don’t know. She looks at me with disregard. I’m just there, another thing in the room, a nightstand or a candle.

“The red shoes fancy me.”

1 Comment

Filed under Eddie Kirsch

One response to “Red Shoes by Eddie Kirsch

  1. The red shoes are what he fancies? Well, he may have low self esteem but at least he has taste! Nicely written story.

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