Cinderella

"You must fit. You just... must."

She grunted and sighed and squeezed. Yet it still wouldn't yield and remained as strong and solid a form as her feet. They were lovely, the loveliest pair of shoes she had ever seen. They were colorful and wrapped with all sorts of exotic fabrics and textures.


Her eyes prickled, in pain, in desperation as she had to leave and didn't want to have to leave without them.


It wasn't the shoes of course. It was the prince. And he wanted to keep her, but only if they fit. If the shoes didn't fit, they didn't fit. She limped, broken footed and spirited, skin rubbed raw, the soles didn't match up. She couldn't keep them.


A pity. It was perfect in every other way.