This isn't weird.

Discontinued

Twin high top sneakers rested side by side on the kitchen table.

The one on the right was pristine. Crisp white and red tumbled leather, black laces, a distinctive black swoosh on the side, with an icy blue translucent outer sole. It was spotless. Flawless. Immaculate. Perfect. Gorgeous.

The one on the left looked much like the right shoe, if the right shoe was the sole survivor at the end of a slasher film. Blood had soaked into and dried on nearly every square inch of its surface. Where there should be only beautiful, snowy white, there were muddy, rust colored streaks and splotches. What should have been brilliant red was tinged with a sickening shade of brown. It was a tragedy. An atrocity. An abomination.

Ben sat at the table, staring at them in mournful silence. He had been there for hours. While Indigo had appreciated the visual aesthetic of the scene initially, after recording forty-five minutes of footage, his interest was waning.

"They're just shoes, Ben," he sighed as he turned off his camera. "You can always buy more."

"No, I can't," Ben replied. "These are 2018 AJ1 Origin Stories."

"I have no idea what any of that means, and I think you know that," Indigo said flatly.

"They're limited edition. Discontinued. Even if I ever found another pair of size thirteens they would cost more than my rent."

"If they're that precious, why were you even wearing them out?"

"Because they're good luck."

"If that were true, I don't think they would be drenched in your blood right now."

Ben had no argument, but made a soft, anguished noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

"Must you have them on the kitchen table where we eat?" Indigo asked pointedly.

"Have a little respect," Ben huffed. "I'm in mourning."

"Clearly." Indigo walked over to the table and took a seat across from Ben. He had only the vaguest understanding of what the situation was, but he knew enough to be certain that this wasn't really about the shoes. "I spoke with Tess a little while ago."

Ben made no sign of acknowledgement.

"She'll be driving down to Texas with Millie."

"Texas?" Ben looked up.

"They're leaving tonight. In just a few hours."

It was difficult to read Ben's expression. Subdued, almost blank, but Indigo could still recognize the despair in his eyes.

"We could go over there," Indigo suggested. "Say goodbye. See them off."

As Ben considered the option, his mind was overwhelmed with memories of the previous night. Millie's voice screaming profanity through the walls. The sound of shattering glass. The aggressive certainty in her eyes as she dragged him to her bed. How small and delicate her neck looked in his hands. The absolute trust she had in him to handle her soft little body so roughly. Slow, passionate kisses in the shower. Then... bruises. Yelling. Words—terrible, terrible words. A sudden flash of pain. Blood.

He forced the memories out of focus, locking them tightly away in a tiny, imaginary box in the furthest reaches of his mind. "I need to stay off my foot. Or I could rip open the stitches."

Ben's sullen gaze returned to his sneakers.