I slip into my pink peep-toes and trot into the bathroom. They clack on the tile floor.
“Why are you wearing your shoes?” he sneers from the bedroom.
I kick them off. Extremely annoyed. “I don’t know.”
A few minutes later, I slip them back on as we walk out the door. Why was he so high maintenance? I like my pink shoes. So what if I wanted to walk around in them before it was actually time to leave.
* * *
The next night, we sit across from each other over a huge plate of sushi. His eyes seem sleepy and his hair's a little wild. My favorite look on him.
“We did it again. We made it through another trip without killing each other.”
“The only time you made me mad was when you asked me why I was wearing my shoes in the morning…in a snippy voice.”
“Well, they were loud!” he laughs.
“Did I do anything to make you mad on the trip?”
He looks up, chewing his salmon thoughtfully...
“Yeah, you put your shoes on and walked on the tile at 8:45 a.m.”