The sneakers stomped and then heels clicked and clacked. They were separated a short distance, on the hardwood floor, the rug as the barrier. The heels, then the sneakers again, and back to the heels. The slippers scurried behind the heels, pretending not to be seen, while the flip-flops ran through the middle, not concerned in the slightest about the volume of their steps. The sneakers responded roughly, the heels sassy but sweet, and the slippers just hid in the corner. The sneakers stepped closer, their laces tightening, the heels stepped even closer. When they were not an inch apart, suddenly they turned to the door as they heard them coming: the steel-toed boots had arrived. PROMPT: My fiancé gave me a writing prompt, which simply said: “the war of the shoes.”