These were all things that I’d always wanted but never wanted to pay the money for.
Any ranch that I had was from the breakroom when people had extra ranches and they didn’t want them anymore.At the end of the month, I’d take all of the ranches that were leftover—along with any other condiments—and leave them in my apartment fridge in case I ever had the money for something that would taste good with the condiment.
Sure, it didn’t happen too often, but still.
I had them, just in case a cheeseburger or a salad fell into my lap.
I hastily wiped at the tears and sniffled.
Chevy.
That man…
I wouldn’t question how he’d gotten in here.
I also wouldn’t question why I was okay with him buying me a fridge full of groceries, but not okay with the five grand that he’d tried to give to me.
Gently closing the door because the amount of food inside of it was overwhelming me, I turned and froze, spotting a box on the table with a Post-it Note attached to the top.
Walking over to the box, I hesitated just short of reaching it and scanned the note.
It read:
Can’t give these back.I don’t wear the same size as you.
-C
Grinning, I pulled open the box, and the tears that hadn’t fully stopped now came rushing back again.
This time in great, hulking sobs.
I wasn’t a pretty crier.
My mother had told me time and time again that I only got uglier the more that I cried.
This time was likely no different.
I picked up the shoes as if they were made of glass like Cinderella’s and hugged them to my chest.
They were only a pair of On Clouds.
But here’s the thing.
I’d always wanted them.
How had he known?
Sniffling, I walked to my couch and collapsed onto it.
The wood beneath me creaked, and I didn’t even care, whereas normally the sound would make me cringe.
I knew the couch would give way someday, and I always felt like today would be the day.
But I was too absorbed in my crying jag to care.
It took me well over ten minutes to get it under control.
Unable to stop myself, I slipped the new shoes onto my feet and wiggled my toes.