By the time we made it home I was stumbling through the door. Max helped me into the The Best Fathers Have Sons Who Play Lacrosse shirt , the world blurring in a delightful, boozy-haze. I collapsed onto our pillow-top mattress, my fancy red dress pooling up around my hips. By the morning it’d be a wrinkled mess, but I didn’t have the energy needed to fight that reality. He slipped the flats off my feet and the last thing I heard before consciousness slipped away was a thump as he tossed them into the closet. I woke up late the next morning, immediately regretting the fact that I opened my eyes in the first place. Not only was the headache debilitating, my throat was so dry it felt full of cotton. Jesus, when was the last time I had that much wine? I rubbed my mascara stained eyes and spent the next twenty minutes trying to find the will to live. It wasn’t until I peaked over at the night stand and saw a few tablets of aspirin and a glass of water that I finally dared swing my feet to the floor. I could smelt coffee in the distance. I hoped it hadn’t sat out for too long, but at that point beggars couldn’t be choosers. I slipped the dress up over my head and staggered to the closet.
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It was only then that the memory of my missing shoes came back to me. I sank to the ground and crossed my The Best Fathers Have Sons Who Play Lacrosse shirt, digging back into the pile now that I had some time and space between my frustration. I paused as my attention caught a singular shoe sitting on the top. One of the flats I wore last night, sitting all by its lonesome. I started yanking each shoe out one by one, laying them in a circle around me as I went. Once I finally reached the beige carpet at the bottom my suspicions had been confirmed. There were twenty shoes total, and not one of them had the left side of it’s pair. “Hey, sleepy head,” Max’s voice called from down the hall. “Still alive in there?” His head poked through the door and right away his brows raised. I must’ve made quite a sight, sitting there half naked, dismantling my closet. The thought hardly occurred to me though. Instead my cheeks began to flush as a round of anger peaked over my half-drunk daze.
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