Sitting on the bed, she watched the four-year-old tapping the heel of the stiletto on the palm of his hand. Did the upturn of his lips mean happy or sadistic? Tap. Tap. His piercing eyes bore into her groggy mind. Why had she agreed to go to the party wearing those shoes?
“You know what these are good for?”
“Not dancing,” she muttered.
Tap. Thump. The shoe landed on the floor.
“Killing snakes!” He giggled.
She laughed as she slid her foot into her favourite heels.
This morning her feet thanked her for bringing her cowboy boots.