he found the other shoe.
He had seen the left shoe earlier
while her body was still wedged under the car.
It was raining lightly
and perhaps that’s why the driver hadn’t seen her.
He never did see her face
as only the lower half of her body was visible
wet
streaked with grease
skirt above her waist
her bare feet still sheathed in pantyhose
and her left shoe was standing upright near the car
as if waiting impatiently for her to step back in
so they could resume striding together to their destination.
“Come on, let’s go”, it seemed to say.
He found the right shoe later
hurled into the woods at the side of the road.
He thought of her morning.
She would have gathered the rough material
slipped her feet in
and begun pulling the hose up
stretching and moving the bunched waistband back and forth
to keep the pantyhose tight and smooth
never imagining that strangers would later see her handiwork
sprawled at an awkward angle
on cold wet asphalt.
He wondered if he should try to return the shoe.
But to whom? And why?
As it began raining harder
he walked to the corner gas station
pulled down a couple of paper towels
and wiped most of the mud off the red shoe.
He could not get all of the mud out of the gap where the leather met the sole
but he tried.
He cleaned it up the best he could.
Then, after staring at it for a minute or so
and not knowing what else to do
he dropped it in the trash can
on top of an empty donut box
and covered it carefully with the paper towels.