Creative Commons photo by Kat/Swim Parallel
Kevin rested his aching feet on the seat in front of him, glad nobody was on the bus to admire his ill-fitting footwear: a pair of shiny black women’s pumps. It was a handy trick—put on the shoes and follow them straight to the owner—but it was hell on his soles.
He removed a shoe. As he inspected one of a dozen blisters he’d acquired that afternoon, the bus swerved violently. The shoe flew from Kevin’s hand and landed in the aisle several seats in front of him.
Moving to collect the rogue shoe, Kevin bent He froze mid-stoop. Under the adjacent seat was a suitcase. He inched it into the aisle and unzipped it slowly. The suitcase was full of feet.
Kevin took the black pump and carefully slipped it over the freshest severed appendage. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone.
“Hello? This is Detective Prince. I found Cinderella.”