The late afternoon air is crisp and cool as Moxy strides out of her college, and the sky is a clear shade of azure with not a cloud to be seen. Enjoying the sudden change in weather and approaching nightfall, she inhales a lungful of the fresh breeze and feels distinctly invigorated by it. Almost... strengthened. Everything seems different today, Moxy thinks to herself. It's almost as if that short nap in the toilet cubicle made me feel better. Tugging her long dark sleeve back down her milky white arm, Moxy realises she's already reached her destination: The Boot Shop. The walk from college to here is usually about 10 minutes but Moxy could've sworn the journey length was at least 3 minutes shorter.
Ducking slightly to avoid hitting her head on the bizarrely low doorway, Moxy grins as the sudden aroma of leather tickles her nose upon entry. She follows her nose and heads straight for the shelf of women's Doc Martens. Judging by the tightness of her current boots, Moxy estimates she is about a size larger since she last bought a pair. Checking the bottom of her beloved boots, she notices she was a modest size UK 6, so she scans the shelf for a moment and grabs a size 7.
Damn, when did these boots get so tight? Moxy wonders as she forcefully tugs the shoe from her foot, taking considerable effort to remove. To her surprise, her striped socks now had 5 holes in them, with a toe protruding from each one. What the fuck? The material is all strained too... how did I manage to ruin these? Moxy wriggles her toes in annoyance, and decides to ignore this for now. Purring as she feels the coarse material of the new boots from the shelf, Moxy attempts to pull the boot over foot but to no avail. Damn, I must've grown more than a size. Smiling as she looks along the shelf, Moxy notices the largest pair of boots is a UK size 9. She half-jokingly chooses these and attempts to pull them over her feet in a similar manner. Holy shit, even these are too small.
Vexed, Moxy rises from the stool in her torn sock clad feet and approaches the front desk. "Excuse me," she says with mock politeness, "but it appears that your largest size of women's Doc Martens are too small for my feet. Would you happen to have any larger ones in the stock room?"
The somewhat short store attendant turns around to address Moxy. "We..." he begins but trails off for a second, his eyes widening slightly as he looks up at her.
"Ahem," he coughs, "I'm afraid we don't, but we do have some flats in lar-"
"I don't want flats," Moxy replies firmly, "I want boots. Don't tell me you don't sell them in any sizes larger than 9."
"L-like I said," the clerk replies a little shakily, "unfortunately we don't. It's unusual for women to have feet bigger than-"
"Well, evidently, I do," Moxy replies in a voice oozing with hostility. She bends over slightly to make herself at eye level with the man. "Listen to me. What you're going to do is find me a pair of black Doc Martens in my size. I will then purchase them and leave. Do we understand each other?" she explains menacingly, grabbing the man by the tie and tightening it until his face turns red.
"Y-y-yes, ma'am," he stammers, slithering out of her tight grip and hurrying into the back room. Moxy scowled at him as he left. Fucking incompetent store workers, she fumes. No way in hell am I walking home in a pair of half-destroyed socks.
The small red-faced man re-appears from the back of the shop with a pair of even larger boots in his hand. "Ma'am, we didn't have any larger women's boots," he tells Moxy nervously, enduring her furious glare, "...however we do have a size 10 pair of men's boots. The only real difference is the shape of the insole."
Moxy snatches the boots from the man and returns to the stool she was perched on before. Undoing the laces, she finds her feet slip into the boots just fine. With a content smile, she puts them both on and approaches the till once again.
"Thank you, these are fine," she smiles sarcastically. "Now, how much will that be?"
"S-seventy pounds, ma'am."
Moxy pulls out her debit card from her purse and inserts it into the machine before her. Moments later, the purchase is complete.
"See? You just saved yourself a lot of trouble by simply co-operating," Moxy tells the man patronisingly. Extending her arm, she ruffles the hair of the clerk forcefully and chuckles as he dwindles in size even more. Look at him, crouching away from me, she smiles to herself. He looks so pathetic and feeble. She wriggles her toes in her new shoes, enjoying the feeling of belittling other people like always.
Suddenly, for a fleeting moment, as Moxy stops ruffling the clerk's hair childishly, a scene flashes across her eyes. In her mind, she tenses her arm fully and propels her fist at the man's face, instantly knocking him unconscious. She giggles as his limp body crumples under its own weight, causing him to smack his head against the counter on the way down, and proceeds to spit on his face.
Moxy is brought abruptly back to reality. The man looks confused and freaked out. Unsettled, Moxy promptly leaves the store without uttering another word. The daydream was so realistic, and... Damn, it felt good. Gathering her thoughts, Moxy begins the walk home...
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