Eugene wore blue shoes. He had to stand out. He stood out because he wore blue shoes. Blue leather shoes. Eugene did not understand love.
He tried to provoke desire by dressing well. There was a brunette named Desiree and he had to impress her. She liked to talk with him, but that was not enough. She had to want him. He had to believe it.
Eugene did not have to have her. Hell, he did not have time to have her. He was married and he thought he did not have sex enough, but he supposed a lot of married men thought that. Eugene loved his wife. He just wanted to be wanted.
The question was whether the shoes would cause Desiree to see him in a lustful light. They should; they made him see himself that way. Eugene saw himself in blue leather shoes and thought, I must have that man. And when he got home alone with himself, he would. He would have himself like he’d never been had before. If he could ever get himself alone.
Return toHome Page
Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories