Lying on a loveseat at the Tipsy Bison, your head was spinning. The clear sensation of nausea and small niggling discomforts located at the height of the feet enveloped you completely. Your fingers unconsciously gripped the leather of the brown banquettes. The nails dug inside almost as if tearing the white fabric inside. Your lips parted to release a sigh of relief only when your feet were released from that horrible sensation like having to walk in heels for hours. Furthermore, your taste buds felt completely damaged by the strong taste of alcohol that you and Dina had jokingly ingested, leading Jesse to get angry at you and then, call Ellie. The thin phalanges went up to your calf. Oh, how sweet her movements were. Shivers ran down the skin of your legs, making your cheeks blush and look up at the subject in front of you. Right on her knees. Her expert fingers attempted to undo the small hook of your heels with complete seriousness, without saying a word. She had only looked up a few times, preventing you from meeting her eyes. Yet, there was a moment when her hands went beyond what was your due. Starting from the calves, up to the inside of the knee in a comfortable gesture. Then, she spoke unexpectedly:

Ellie: I told you not to wear that stuff.

Her tone was teasing, almost frustrated. She scratched her eyebrow nervously as she got up from the ground, becoming taller than you only because you were still sitting on that sofa from which you wouldn't have wanted or been able to get away. Then, her chin pointed at something on the floor, just at the edge of the couch. Your head was spinning so much that you thought it was all a dream, that she wasn't really there with you. She was pointing to her converse with an almost embarrassed frown, as if she wanted you to take them and put them on immediately, before she changed her mind. Then, she gripped your heels between her fingers, looking up to mentally curse you.

Ellie: Take my shoes. That stuff must be really bad for your feet.