We found his shoes on the cliff top, facing the sea, as though waiting for their owner to return.
Days were spent searching for his body, the spot popular for suicides, the rescue teams familiar with the tides. Everything felt so out of character – the location obvious, the placement of the shoes deliberate.
We kept the shoes for many years, always convinced that something else had occurred that day, ever hopeful that the shoes would reveal their secrets.
Until one day they did – colours faded and material perished, the sole splitting open to reveal a note hidden deep inside the rubber.
A 100 word story for the Friday Fictioneers.
Photo (c) Sarah Potter