‘You having a go at how I arrange my shoes?’ Shelly said, putting a beautiful pair, of purple, high heeled shoes on the rack.
‘Not so much that, but how many shoes. I mean, did you need to buy another pair? I counted them last night, and there were three hundred and sixty-four pairs.’
‘Look, one more pair and I can wear a different set each day. I don’t spend my money on anything else, and you have your football shirts. At least my shoes don’t cost as much. You paid sixty pounds for that one, and it don’t look different.’
Hanging up, in a row, were blue shirts of each dark shade. He couldn’t throw any of them out. Some were classics, even if they didn’t fit him anymore. The first one, he ever brought, hung at the end.
He patted his food belly and pulled out one. ‘At least I wear them.’
‘I wear my shoes!’
‘We don’t even go out, and some of these shoes are so high you couldn’t even walk in them.’
‘Well, that can be sorted, you are taking me out for a meal. It is our anniversary, and you can wear your shirt, and I’ll be able to wear my new shoes, along with the dress I brought yesterday.’
‘Okay, but we’re going Dutch.’
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