Making Her Beg

I tried his door, which was now unlocked. He was sitting behind his desk with a broad grin on his face. He held my shoe aloft in his left hand, the scissors in his right. “Hello, Miss Shoe,” he said. “Have you met my friend, Mr. Scissors?”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “I’m sorry I threw it, okay? I’m sorry.”

He spun the slingback around on his index finger. I wanted to demand he stop because he might stret