My heart sank. I had only five. I started to walk away, but she studied me for a long moment and smiled gently.
“For you, dear — five’s enough. No child should have cold feet.”
That small act of kindness nearly undid me. I thanked her through tears, clutching the shoes like they were treasure.
I frowned, pulled the shoe off, and pressed the insole. The sound came again — crisp and delicate, like paper. When I lifted the liner, a folded piece of yellowed parchment appeared beneath it.
It was a letter.
The Letter in the Shoe
The handwriting trembled with grief.
“To whoever finds this,
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