Black loafers

black loafers

Gloria whistled in her sleep, she never snored. Richard awoke from a dream believing he heard someone calling a dog. He sat up, shook his head, and swung his naked body out of bed.

Without turning on any lights he groped his way from their bedroom and moved toward the kitchen. Halfway through the family room he glimpsed a pair of loafers beside an armchair and slipped his feet into them. They were too big. He looked closer and saw they were black. He didn’t own black loafers. He kicked off the shoes and scratched his scalp. Still perplexed over the shoes, he powered on the coffee maker in the kitchen and continued to the bathroom. He ran the shower, adjusted the water temperature, stepped in, and soaped up. All the while he pondered the odd footwear.

Refreshed and in clean clothes now, he checked on Gloria. She slept peacefully and had stopped whistling.

Grinding sounds came from the family room. he retrieved the black shoes on his way to investigate. He turned a corner and found a white-haired giant of a man in a recliner, asleep. His shoeless feet hung over the chair’s footrest, and colorful Argyle socks, like wind direction indicators, caught his eye. He tiptoed to the sleeping man, set the loafers next to his chair, and backed away without a sound.

Back in his bedroom, he bent over the bed and whispered to his wife, “Gloria.” He nudged her shoulder. “Gloria…your dad’s asleep in the front room.”

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