sjsprWriting

There was chatter all around the room. 

Soft voices.

Loud sips of wine.

Boisterous laughs.

Orchestral music. 

I watched the crowd, bored out of my wits. The guests had been doing the same thing for about two hours. Maybe more. 

Same dances, conversations, drinks. Many had come over to me to ask if I was alright. I'd shrug and hand them my drink. They'd give thanks, and the party went on. No more notice of me. 

"Excuse me," a shrill, shaky voice called. 

I looked to the side, and my eyes grew wide. The sight was shocking. For a few seconds, I stared at the pale, aged, unkempt man standing next to me. No one else seemed to notice him. The party went on. 

"Sir?" I shook.

"Why will you not dance, girl?"

I stood silent. "Why won't you?" He threw his head back at my response. 

"Well, you see, I've one shoe. One can't dance with just one shoe." 

I blinked hard at the statement. 

"One?"

"Yes."

"How were you left with one shoe?" I laughed. "Dancing?"

The man looked down at his feet, then back at me. I cringed. A smile came up on his face, flashing a set of crooked teeth. 

"Look at the people around you, girl. What do you see?" 

"What am I looking for?"

"Look closely."

And, there it was. Between the cluster of dancing people, there was a shoe. A simple, black, leather shoe. 

"Yours?" I breathed, still looking at the shoe.

"No. Yours."