A/N: Just a silly little one-shot that I enjoyed to write based on the fact that I just got a pedicure and was inspired! Hope you all enjoy :)
How one woman could have such a collection of open toed shoes, Gold could not know.
Every day, she seemed to pull a new pair from the recesses of wherever women hoarded all of their belongings, and having been a single man for all of his life in this world where women could accumulate all sorts of useless odds, ends, and baubles to their heart's content, he was astounded.
The parade of colors all fit her so well, and she never looked mismatched or disheveled, she was just a burst of spring breeze in flat sandals, or a fresh blooming flowers with peep toe kitten heels, or a babbling brook in flip-flops– she was whatever she felt like being, and Gold stood back and he watched.
He watched her feet dance over the pavement, and then the shoes would sit abandoned on the edge of the town square, her freshly painted toes wriggling in the grass, sun kissing her perfect cheeks.
In truth, he had never been a fan of the sun, but in moments like that, he was positively envious of the way she lifted her face to catch sunlight, how she sought it out at every turn and begged it to touch her cheeks and kiss every inch of her exposed skin. The way it left its mark in freckle after freckle, and when she raised her arms above her head, laughing at some unspoken joke between she and the sun.
He would give anything to be sunlight.
But, he didn't approach her. He was not sunlight, he was darkness and he sucked the sun out of everything. He'd take her babbling brooks and fresh flowers, dash them into the rocks, and she would follow, sprawled and drenched along the river's edge.
No, he was not her sunlight – he was not the grass between her toes – he was the storm cloud that lurked ominously on the edge of her bright summer day, threatening to throw every single one of those pretty pairs of shoes back into hiding and bring out the galoshes: not dainty, or beautiful: only existing to protect the delicately painted toes inside.
He never wanted to see her in rain boots.
If he could have made a deal with the sun, he would have, just to watch from the picture window and see her in that endless array of shoes abandoned on the grass so she could dance in the grass and soak up as much of her sunlight as she wanted.