Glass Slipper

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright 2011 Plot Roach.

Glass Slipper

By Plot Roach

The sunset painted beautiful colors across the sky as the world ended for Ashley Williams. She had just lost her job, her home and her lover in one fell swoop. To be honest, all three were linked together as she was sleeping with a co-worker and had moved in with him recently to get away from her parents. Then, within the span of a week, he had fallen head over heels in love with a temporary filing clerk on the third floor of the business where they worked. He asked her to leave while they were both out on a coffee break.

“But you said that you loved me.” She cried into her dark roast blend with two creams and one sugar.

“That was last week. This is NOW.” he said over a cinnamon-vanilla gourmet instant blend, not bothering to look up from the frothy concoction.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence as each contemplated his or her future in the sugary, caffeinated beverages sitting in front of them.

“Well, that’s it then.” Paul said, pushing himself away from the table and dumping the rest of his drink down the sink, not bothering to rinse his coffee mug.

When he left, Ashley reached into the sink and rinsed out the mug for him, setting it into the strainer to air dry. The “Night Rider” logo standing out in red on the black background of the cup. She had almost left the kitchen when she felt the anger well up within her demanding: No! He will not get away with this.

What am I going to do? She asked herself. And in a moment of odd passion, she took his mug from the rack and slipped it into her purse. She asked her supervisor for the rest of the day off, complaining of a migraine. She got to their apartment in record time, taking all of her things and throwing them into the backseat of her car. She tried calling her parents to see if they would let her stay at their home for a while, and found out that they were off on a cruise and wouldn’t be back for three weeks.

While going through her personal phonebook to call any friends that might be of help, her boss called to let her know that she was fired. Paul had been stealing money from work and had used her personal identification card to go to the business when everyone else had left to go home, setting her up to take the blame. No charges would be filed against her, but she would be unable to use them as a reference and unable to claim unemployment. He refused to hear her side of the story, as Paul had already procured several witnesses testifying to her sketchy behavior as of late.

When she hung up the phone, she left their apartment for the last time, handing off her keys to a homeless man she saw walking less than a block from the front door of their complex. “Take what you can of value and smash the rest.” she told him, pulling the keys off her key ring and telling him when Paul would be returning home from work.

She drove to White Park, a spot she loved since early childhood. She would come here anytime something in her life bothered her, sitting for hours in front of the fountain and imagining her problems being sucked down through the water and disappearing into the drain, never again to plague her.

She parked her car, taking her purse with her. She opened the small, brown bag and removed a plastic baggie of birdseed, scattering it around the fountain and waiting for the multicolored songbirds and the plain brown sparrows to visit for a quick meal. Once she had emptied the bag, she reached into her purse to pull out a stick of gum only to have her hand brush Paul’s mug.

She pulled it out, setting it on the rim of the fountain. Now what am I going to do with you? She thought. Shall I go back to the apartment, kill the homeless man by smashing him over the head with you, little mug, and then leave the bits as crime scene evidence to implicate my rat of an ex-boyfriend. She smiled at the thought, envisioning him being lead away in handcuffs. But no, he would find a way to weasel out of it and blame it on me. Maybe I should throw you into the air and let you smash into a million pieces, or leave you by the trashcan for a bum in need of a good coffee mug.

Just as she was deep into her thoughts, contemplating the fate of Paul’ coffee mug a man walked by. “Do you have the time?” he asked, startling her out of her self misery.

“Four fifteen.” she answered, squinting against the sunlight to see him. He was tall, not model material, but definitely not something to scoff at. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a surfer’s physique.

“Thanks then.” he said, preparing to walk away. Her heart sank. There goes prince charming-for-now, and all he wanted from me was the time of day. She almost laughed at the thought. But then, low and behold, he stopped in his tracks, eyeing the mug she had left on the rim of the fountain.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

“I’m the one who put it there.” she answered. “Why?”

“It’s just that... Well, my father was into this show when I was a kid and I used to sit with him for hours and watch it. It was one of the best memories I have of him.”

“Watching ‘Night Rider’?” She asked.

“Yeah, I know it’s silly. But I was thinking of him today, and was really missing him. It’s almost like a sign, you know.”

“I’m glad I could be of help.” she said. “Would you like the mug?”

“Sure, if it’s okay with you.” he said, picking the mug up from the edge of the fountain.

“I only have one request in exchange.”

“Sure, what’s that?”

“We go have coffee together so you can test it out.” She said, smiling at him.

He agreed, smiling back and the two walked arm in arm to the nearest coffee shop. Along the way, Ashley found that she had a lot more in common with this perfect stranger than she had had with most of the men in her life. And definitely more than with Paul, she thought.

She looked at the mug in his hands. It might not be a glass slipper, she thought. But is sure is the perfect fit.