Perhaps it was left behind for a purpose. Unlike a bicycle tire, a couch cushion, or a bag of mulch (it's easy to imagine how these items can come to be lost or left on the side of a busy highway) shoes are not normally separated from their owners except by deliberate purpose.
But there it was, on the East St. extension near the intersection of Rts. 355, 85, 40 and 70, where unless you are paying attention it's so easy to take a wrong turn. Is the shoe pointing to the Barbara Fritchie restaurant way out on Rt. 40 west on the outskirts of town? It could have been, although I suspect witches are less interested in dining at restaurants with a two-story candy cane out front than at one of the trendy restaurants where they would be lost in the crowds on Market or Patrick Streets.
The shoe in question obviously fell off a foot whisking by on a broom by the light of last night's half moon, and it was upright at a jaunty angle. How does a witch retrieve her shoe? During the day, she will send forth her familiar to collect it--just picture a small, fuming furball dragging this shoe by his sharp little teeth just over there where the landscape of green grass by the roadside is unusually hazy in the spot toward which shoe is being hauled by the determined furball. Watch as the little critter (Don't get out of the car to pet it--it's wild and will bite, and the traffic light is about to change.) reaches the spot and tips the shoe into the haze, and follows it in quick as a wink. Did you just see that? What was it? Oh--the light just turned green and we must go.
Imagine how much legitimate inquiry is stifled in this world when the traffic light changes color.
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