"A girl like you shouldn't have to carry her own groceries." said a voice behind her.
Ramona didn't quite know what she felt when she turned around and found herself looking up at the tall figure that looked, sounded like, and in fact was, Adrien Grody.
"What are you doing here?" asked Ramona flatly. She reflected that it was the most cliché, obvious thing she could have possibly said at that moment. "Figures." She thought.
"I have something to give you. You were kind of hard to track down, but I had some help."
Adrien glanced across the parking lot, where a familiar man with a long beard and a perfect-fit, size 4 pair of penny loafers was leaning up against the driver's side door.
"You went to the Magic Man?"
"He came to me. He said he felt like he ought to look after you. I asked him what I should do. He told me where to find you, and he suggested I give you these."
Adrien pulled out a box and handed it to her. She held it while he removed the lid to reveal a pair of vibrant, red shoes.
"Oh no - " said Ramona, "not more magic shoes. Never again. You can just give these right back to the Magic Man because I'm not putting them on."
"They're not magic shoes. They're plain, old, ordinary shoes that I picked out from the department store, although they are bright red and fabulous. Also, they are exactly your size."
"I don't understand. Why are you giving me un-magical red shoes?"
"The Magic Man said he told you, when he gave you the Red Shoes, that the magic would only last for 12 hours. After that, you had to sprout your own wings of self-confidence, remember. Don't you see? You already have everything you need. The shoe fits, Ramona ... you just have to decide to wear it. I really hope you will."
Ramona took one of the red shoes out of the box and looked at it. It seemed the most beautiful, yet frightening image she had ever laid eyes on. It was a symbol of the dizzying unknown. If she said yes to the red shoes, she might be on top of the world ... or she might be at the butt end of a very cruel joke. Did it mean a happy ending, or the beginning of a wicked satire? She was at the precipice, and the choice lay entirely, without question, in her own two hands.
She looked up at Adrien.
"Well." she said. "I suppose I'd better at least try them on."
THE END.
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