It was sunny when I left home for class, not a cloud in sight. My decision to wear my beloved high-heels felt alright. By the time I left the lecture hall, rain poured heavily and the campus was suddenly filled with a series of puddles.
“No worries,” I thought, glancing down at my closed-toed footwear. Feeling confident, I strutted forward, without worrying about the puddle in front of me.
And then, splash.
The world stopped. I felt dampness under my feet. My shoes suddenly became heavier. As I looked down slowly, thinking “This can’t be happening…”
As I lifted my foot, the water dripped out in a weak stream. That’s when the horrifying realization set in: there was a hole in my shoe.
A flood of questions filled my mind. How big is the hole? When did this happen? How did this happen? Why me?
Suddenly, time rewinded. Everything went back to the day that I passed on those neon pink rain boots last week at the store. That was the moment, the pivotal decision that could have saved me from this embarrassing tragedy. I can see it now — glorious, waterproof, indestructible. That pink perfection could have laughed in the face of the puddle. But I dismissed them. I judged them.
Standing in the puddle, drenched and defeated, I vowed that the next time I saw those neon pink high-heeled rain boots, I’d embrace their neon colour within my soles.
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