WHITE LOSS

White patent leather shoes stood out.

Made for small feet, maybe two, maybe three years old.

Maybe slim, maybe chubby, maybe cute with round cheeks, maybe adorable with a dimpled chin. Maybe having thick, curly black hair, big brown eyes, and brown skin glistening in the sun, months of shea butter laboriously applied day and night.

Patent leather shoes were becoming scarce, and so these white ones were currently the object of a bidding war. The women were foaming at the mouth, comparing shoe sizes and raising the price higher and higher, determined to squeeze big feet into such rare shoes or stuff paper in.

In the middle of it all, the trader sat. Shoes were her throne, and she sat despondent, seemingly unaware of the auction in front of her. The shoes were on a pedestal, she had refused to let them touch it, only look, and if you can afford it by outbidding the other buyers, then it is yours. From beneath her eyelashes, she watched as two women fought to outbid each other.

The shoes had cost her a fortune, exacting a currency that many own but very few are ready to part with. She had paid happily at first, imagining georgette and organza dresses with white lacy socks and white patent leather shoes; the picture of infantile gorgeousness. And then, the result of her determined exuberance crashed on her in a giant wave. After the wave receded, the only thing left was the shoes.

Shoes that had been cleaned and polished so much that their glare was blinding in the sun. Shoes that had been showered with so much love, it was nauseating. Shoes that had cost her much, taken everything from her and the only thing left was a hard casing of flesh and bone. 

It was time to let go, and as she watched the women haggle, the tears fell. First, a drop then drops in quick succession and soon she was bawling her eyes out, wailing and holding onto the shoes. Not today, she thought, not today.

The market women shook their heads as the buyers dispersed, perplexed. Perhaps one day, Doris would be able to sell the shoes, and not give them a second thought. But, not today, they thought, not today.

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels