Franny Shoes Novels & Stories

Finding one that doesn’t need altering is a rare miracle. Eventually, we settle on a black corseted mini dress. Though on us, it barely qualifies as mini — it hits just above our knees. But the moment we’ve been waiting for finally comes. Shoes. The boys sit on a stool and suffer while we browse every shelf in the store. After far too long, I find them — a beautiful pair of black pointed-toe masterpieces by Balmain: the Ruby Monogram Slingback Pumps. They’re not just perfect — they’re mouthwatering. May may choose the dress, but I always choose the shoes.

Freya: “…” Kenneth opened the “Things to Buy” tab for her, like a man proudly unveiling the results of a group project he’d done entirely alone. At the very top of the list: a mini fridge for their room (“because midnight cravings are real”), an apocalypse-level stash of snacks, anti-nausea rubs and oils, a pregnancy pillow, maternity dress, maternity underwear, and, of course, flat Chanel and Gucci shoes in four neutral tones because “comfort shouldn’t look cheap.” Her inner devils clapped.