The Shoe

The leather in my shoe was impeccably comfortable. It was elastic, velvety. It hugged my toes with its softness, it didn’t gnaw at my skin when I had to walk to the Forum. No calluses appeared to molest my feet, no blisters vexed me when I wore them.

That shoe is now in Robus’s drooling mouth.

She gives me back the half-eaten boot accompanied with a happy bark, as if she made it somehow better. She looks me in the eyes and smiles that goofy beam only dogs can. There’s not a trace of understanding that this might be a bad thing to do.

I sigh. What else can I do?

“You’re a bad dog,” I say but she just continues to smile. She doesn’t believe me. She knows they are just words, that I still love her just the same.

I quickly check if she’s eaten anything else. No. The herbs and ointments are intact; she’s too smart to devour them. Well, once she did eat a whole jar of crocodile feces. It must have been too tasty of a snack for a dog to resist. It was partly my fault, I shouldn’t have stored it so low on the shelf. The thought still stings my heart; it was an expensive jar, hard to find. I had to bury any dreams of my luxurious face mask that I was planning for months.

With a shake of my head I turn back to Robus. She doesn’t chew on anyone else’s shoes. A worrying thought pops into my mind, a frown following it in its tail: What if Marcus teaches her to do that?

Honestly? It wouldn’t surprise me. I love him but sometimes I think I shouldn’t. Especially now that there’s a half-eaten corpse in my hand, devoured by his dog. He will tell me that he’s going to buy me a new one. He always does. It’s not the same. This was a good shoe.

No, the best shoe.

Sigh. Fine. I will get this out of the way and make him buy me a new one.

I open the door; that same, creaking door he refuses to fix. It gnaws at my ears. It’s really starting to irritate me. Maybe I should just repair it for him, he’s probably waiting for that to happen, anyway.

But, what I find inside is a most curious sight: You stand slouched like a cornered wolf in his office. The atmosphere in the office is heavy and hostile, there’s a foul smell of intent to kill underneath it all. You turn to me as if I was the one trying to end your life, as if you should attack me instead of him. The sight sinks my stomach, rips open my old scars I didn’t even remember were there.

Don’t look at me like that. I won’t hurt you.

Marcus. Why do you smile as if you’ve found a new plaything? What have you done this time?