Someone Else's Night
by Ella Lesatele
Ten minutes past closing. I brought out the sequined shoes and the pretty blond slipped them on her pedicured feet, not bothering to put down her cell.
"You know it's a full moon," she said, stalking over to the foot mirror and pivoting. "Four of those freaks called today." The sequins seemed to wink back at me from the mirror. I smothered a yawn.
"Don't laugh. This one guy asked if I was into maribou." She balanced on one foot as she pried the other shoe off. "The next one says he can tell from my voice that I have a sexy smell. Holy creep, Batman." She tossed it in my direction without looking. "That's not even counting the mud-fetish freak-"
The whiskey-colored satin was still warm from her foot. I re-wrapped it and tucked it back in the box. After a final look in the mirror, she shucked the other shoe, kicked it towards me, and stepped back into the red Prada heels she'd worn in. No sale.
"No," she said, laughing, "I can't eat sushi, my diet. Maybe-" The bells on the closing door drowned out the rest of the conversation. I yawned again.
Outside, the moon glowed dimly in a cloud-scaled sky, barely visible above the yellow blare of city lights. I turned out the lights, locked the door, and began my walk to the bus stop, wondering if I would ever have the chance to lead an interesting life.