Quality Shoes

The Ragpicker's Dream / Mark Knopfler












Annie was reading the Grapes of Wrath, ambling through it in the summer heat. The sun baking her from above, while the hot sand of the beach reflected it back, making it seem twice as hot as the temperature at the bank had claimed when she’d walked past. Annie was sure she was having an authentic desert experience.


She’d been deep in the ride to California by the point Ma announced Grandma’s death and she let out a small sickened cry, tossing the book aside as if it had bitten her fingers. It didn’t matter that the others around her had looked over with a cross between concern and fright themselves.


That was a horrible book, she thought. No wonder people reported hating it and it was required reading. She scanned the blue horizon and watched the muddy, army green of the waves, but she couldn’t shake the unease the story had caused her.

Still trying to shake the horror of the book’s images from her mind’s eye, she packed up her stuff, including the wretched book in to her large orange bag. Not bothering to fully shake out her towel, she stuffed that down into the bag, too and with an unsettled sigh, set off toward the boardwalk. That always cheered.


Her mind was still lost in the Depression, so her eyes were cast down, watching the sand, rocks and occasional trash that framed each footfall. She glanced up only momentarily when she stepped up on to the edge of the weathered wooden sidewalk.

Another girl stood there, leaning against the side post, gazing out at the water. She was a little older than Annie, but not by much and didn’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention. She was pretty. Beautiful even, and so Annie didn’t bother to speak, but simply made to keep walking.

“Those flip flops will kill you. You need quality shoes.” The girl spoke. Annie paused, glancing around. No one else was around. She was wearing her orange flower flip flops. Annie nodded noncommittally, in case the girl wasn’t speaking to her, she wouldn’t look like a complete jerk and tentatively started to walk on.

“I’m serious, you know. You should wear sneakers or something.” The girl finally tore her eyes from the horizon to stare at Annie.

"Yeah. I’ve heard that.” Annie smiled, now thinking, weirdo. A very beautiful weirdo, though.


“No one believes. It’s okay.” The girl smiled sadly with a shrug, pushing a stray piece of wispy blonde hair back behind her ears. With a final glance at Annie, she walked away from the boardwalk down towards the water.

Annie watched her a moment, she looked like a picture from one of her old fairytale books. Her wispy blonde hair blew gently in the breeze and she wore a flowery sundress that made it seem like it was a cool spring day. “Very strange,” Annie muttered to herself before walking on to her favorite spots.


It was three days later when Annie was back on the beach. She hadn’t thought about the weird girl in that time, but now, she thought she saw her. Ambling a bit closer, it was clearly her, leaning against the sign post on the edge of the walk way again. Annie thought it might be prudent to walk away, but again she had quite enough of Steinbeck and so decided to simply casually walk by again and see if the other spoke.


“Shoes all over the world were identical until the nineteenth century, when left- and right-footed shoes were first made in Philadelphia.” The girl called after Annie after she’d passed a few steps.


Annie paused. There was odd and there was this girl.


“Excuse me?”

“Shoes all over the world were identical until the nineteenth century, when left- and right-footed shoes were first made in Philadelphia.”


“Okay. Thanks.” Annie answered and kept walking.


The next day Weird Shoe Girl was still at her post and Annie couldn’t help herself but walk by.


"In Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, heels on shoes were always colored red.” The girl didn’t disappoint.


This time Annie stopped in front of the girl and studied her with a frown. The girl looked blankly back.


“You know a lot about shoes.” Annie tried to make it sound like a mere statement of fact, rather than the oddity she was thinking it was.


“Yes. I do.” The other nodded.


It occurred to Annie for the first time to look down. Weird shoe girl was indeed wearing shoes, though there was something odd about them Annie couldn’t quite place.