Free Ruby's Slippers by Leanna Ellis

skirt.”
    “I’m not the brightest bulb in the drawer … but if we could close the ladder it might release me.”
    “You’ll have to step down first.” I take her hand.
    She takes a hesitant step downward, pointing the toe of her flat shoes as she does. Her skirt rises higher in the back. She wobbles. Her eyes grow wide.
    “I won’t look. I promise.”
    “Believe you me, there are plenty of widowers in here who would.”
    Laughing, I help her down the last two steps. She remains on tiptoe. “Hold on now,” I place her hand on my shoulder, “while I try to close the ladder.” The material pops loose, and Sophia tumbles forward. I shriek a warning and grab for her but miss. She lands with a whoosh in an old upright chair. Popcorn flies out of the bag.
    I let go of the ladder, which bangs against a bookshelf, and rush to her, crunching bits of popcorn into the carpet. “Are you okay?”
    “Oh, sure.” The corners of her eyes tilt downward. Her wide mouth twists. She kicks her legs out in front of her and rolls her ankles. “Boy, it feels good to be free.”
    “How long have you been up there?”
    “I’m not sure. The lights were out and no one came in for a long time.” She waves a hand. “No nevermind now.”
    “You could have hurt yourself.”
    “Oh, I’m fine.” Sophia grins, then looks down at herself. “Oops!” Her breasts appear to be lopsided. One of them now rests at her waist. She grabs the lump, shifts it into place, and laughs. “My stuffing leaks out sometimes.” Seeing my confusion, she adds, “I had surgery. You know, breast cancer. Complete mastectomy. Sometimes my manufactured parts go awry.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry.” I avert my gaze. “I—”
    She adjusts her clothes, pulling and shifting material this way and that, then pats her hips and arms. “Still, I’m pretty agile, if I do say so. For my age.”
    I don’t ask her what age that might be. Momma raised me to be polite. But Sophia doesn’t look nearly as old as some of the folks in this facility.
    Her gaze roams over me as if searching for a badge or some reason for my existence. “You work here?”
    “No. I’m … well, I was searching for my dog.”
    “You one of those people who bring their animals for us to pet?”
    “No, I live here.”
    The clicking of tiny nails against linoleum makes me turn around. Otto rounds the corner and instantly heads for the scattered popcorn, licking at the carpet, sniffing around for more bits. I scoop him up into my arms and introduce him to Sophia.
    “I wasn’t much help to you, was I?” Sophia offers Otto a fluffy kernel off the palm of her hand.
    “I wouldn’t say that. The smell of cracked corn—” I pause, shake my head. “That was wrong. Um … popcorn. It lured Otto to us. So you were a huge help.”
    “I’d like to believe that. It’s so hard to feel useful in this place. No one seems to need me anymore.”
    “That’s not true! You changed the lightbulb. Maybe you could help me keep an eye on Otto. He runs off all the time. I spend most of my time walking around looking for him. Of course, the walking is good for me.”
    “An optimist, are you? I like that.” She rubs Otto’s dark furry head. “He’s a curious little wanderer, is he?”
    “More like trouble.”
    “But you love him very much.”
    “Most definitely.”
    “That’s good. That’s important. My daddy always said, ‘Everyone needs someone to love.’”
    But did he mean only a dog? The fact that my sole companion is Otto makes for a sad commentary on my life. Not that I’ve thought much about that over the years. It’s just howthings worked out. I wonder if Sophia has someone, or if she’s alone. Like me.
    She peers closer at me, wrinkling the skin between her eyebrows. “You’re awfully young for a place like this. Or do you have a wizard of a plastic surgeon?”
    I laugh. “I was in a coma. Now I’m recovering.”
    Her eyes widen. “Oh, of course! I visited you. You look different