The Silver Shoe

And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in... Soft Spence. In a moment, Act 1 of the Silver Shoe, written especially for suspense by Robert Riddick. You just take for granted. I mean, you don't question.

You've been to the funeral and watched them lower the coffin and to the grave. You just gotta say to yourself, what's the way it is? It's all over. Maybe if you care a lot for somebody like I did for Corey, maybe they go on living and waving your mind.

Not really living, but what kind of living in your thoughts or memories. But that's all. So when I saw this girl sitting in a drug store two years after Corey's funeral, naturally Naturally, I had to figure she was somebody who just happened to look a lot like her.

I mean, wouldn't you? And Maritha countered drinking her coffee. But she was doing something that... Well, I guess I'd seen Corin do a hundred times. She was holding a spoon upside down.

Dab and little strokes with it on her napkin. Like it was a paintbrush drawn imaginary little pictures on it. And when she spoke to the counter man, it was with Corey's own sweet familiar voice.

Let me have a chat please. I ate sour sandwich and coffee. Okay 50 cents beautiful. I guess I must have looked pretty strange standing there staring at her. But I couldn't help myself. Long something buddy.

Huh? Yeah, cup coffee. Cup of coffee coming up. I watched her pay the check. Watched every movement she made. Every step she took as she walked out of the door. She steps, every one of them.