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MidReal Story
The Sweetest Thing
Scenario:A boy has a favorite pair of sneakers. One morning, he tries to put them on, but they are too tight. He tries to loosen them, but he can’t loosen them.
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Ethan
He is a young boy with a passion for sports, especially basketball. He is determined, hopeful, and frustrated. Ethan has a favorite pair of sneakers that he wants to wear for his basketball tryouts. However, they no longer fit properly, causing him frustration. Despite trying to adjust the fit, he cannot loosen the laces. His sister helps him, and with her assistance, the sneakers fit just right, giving him a boost of confidence.
Ethan's Father
He is a busy professional with limited time for personal matters. He is supportive, distracted, and encouraging. Although preoccupied with work, Ethan's father ensures that he attends his son's basketball tryouts by sending Morgan along to support him. His trust in Morgan showcases his reliance on family for support and shows his concern for Ethan's activities.
Ethan's Mother
She is a caring parent involved in the family dynamics. She is attentive, supportive, and nurturing. Although not directly involved in the scene of the day, her presence is felt through her actions and relationship with her children. She prepares breakfast for the family and packs Ethan's bag for tryouts, demonstrating her active role in their household and Ethan's sporting endeavors.
I woke up early, feeling hopeful, and then I went to my room to get my favorite pair of sneakers.
I sat on the floor to put them on, but they were too tight.
I tried to put them on again and again, but I still couldn’t put my heel all the way in.
"Damn it!"
I said, throwing the sneakers across the room.
They hit the wall and fell silently to the floor.
I tried to put them on again, but it was impossible.
I tried to loosen the laces, but they wouldn’t budge.
"Damn it!"
I said again, throwing the sneakers against the wall.
They bounced off and landed in front of me.
I picked them up and tried to loosen the laces again, but they wouldn’t move.
"Fuck!"
I said, throwing them across the room again.
This time they slid under my bed.
I sighed loudly and threw my head back against the floor.
"Fuck!"
I said again, cursing loudly.
I wanted those sneakers for basketball tryouts that morning, but now I couldn’t put them on.
"Hey," Morgan said softly, walking into my room with a bowl of cereal in her hand.
She looked under the bed and saw my sneakers before looking back at me.
"What’s wrong with you?"
I sat up from the floor, my face hot with frustration.
Morgan set her cereal bowl on my desk and crouched down next to me.
"I can’t put them on," I said, gesturing to my feet in my plain white socks.
"They’re too tight."
Morgan frowned and looked at my sneakers under the bed.
"Did you try loosening the laces?"
I crawled over to the bed and reached under it to grab my sneakers.
The black laces were covered in dust, and I could feel the dirt on my fingers as I pulled them out.
I held up the sneakers for Morgan to see.
"The laces won’t budge," I explained, pulling on them to demonstrate.
Morgan watched me struggle with the knots for a moment before reaching out to take the shoes from me.
"These are your sneakers," Morgan said, examining the inside label closely.
"They're too small for you now. Your feet grew last night.”
I sat on my bed, staring at her in disbelief.
"That's impossible," I told her, grabbing the shoes from her to check for myself.
The size printed inside was the same as it had always been - size 6.
I had worn these since fourth grade.
Morgan set her cereal bowl on my dresser and knelt down next to me on the floor.
She took my foot in her hand and measured it against the sole of the shoe.
The sneaker was definitely shorter than my foot now.
I pressed my toes against the front of the shoe through the fabric, feeling the tight squeeze.
I stared at my cramped toes in the sneakers while Morgan measured them against my foot again.
The morning sunlight streamed through my window, and I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.
It was 7:30 AM - only two hours until tryouts.
Dad’s keys jingled downstairs as he grabbed them from the hook to go to work.
The mall wouldn’t open for another hour, and I knew I would miss tryouts if we went there.
Morgan saw my expression and frowned.
"There’s an outlet store near the school," she said softly.
"We could try there."
I nodded, determination replacing my frustration.
I grabbed my backpack, and Morgan finished her cereal quickly before putting on her shoes.
Dad handed us some cash from his wallet before heading out the door to go to work.
"Be back soon," he said, glancing at the clock.
It was 7:45 AM.
The outlet store opened at 8, giving us just enough time to get there before tryouts at 10.
My old sneakers dangled from my hand as we stood by the front door.
Morgan double-checked the address of the store on her phone.
"It’s a fifteen-minute walk," she confirmed, looking up at me and nodding.
I shoved the money into my pocket and grabbed my gym bag, shoving my old sneakers inside.
They bounced against my leg with each step as we rushed down Oak Street.
Morgan kept glancing at her phone to check the time.
We passed Mrs. Chen watering her garden, then the corner store where Mr. Patterson was unlocking his door.
The outlet store was two blocks away from the school, so we had to cross the street at the crosswalk.
Morgan grabbed my arm when I tried to run through the yellow light.
The cars zoomed past us while we waited for it to turn green again, my feet shuffling impatiently on the curb.
As the crosswalk signal changed, I bolted forward with Morgan right behind me.
My gym bag thumped against my hip as we ran past the convenience store and dry cleaners.
The outlet store's metal security gate was still down when we reached it, but a worker inside noticed us through the glass.
She moved slowly, gathering her keys and checking her watch.
Morgan and I stood there catching our breath, watching the minute hand tick toward 8:00.
My heart pounded from both running and anticipation.
"Do you think they'll have my size?" I asked, trying to mask my anxiety.
Morgan glanced at the worker inside, then back at me.
"If they don't, we'll make it work somehow," she replied with a determined smile.
I leaned against the store window, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
The concrete felt cold and rough through my socks.
Morgan noticed me fidgeting and suggested I sit on a bench nearby.
As I walked over, the rough surface scraped against my feet.
Sitting down, I felt an odd draft on my right foot.
Looking down, I saw a quarter-sized hole in my sock.
The white threads were frayed around the edges.
The black pavement showed through where my heel had worn through the fabric.
Morgan chuckled softly, "Guess those socks need replacing too, huh?"
I sighed, rubbing my heel, "Yeah, but sneakers first, or I'll never make it through tryouts."
She nodded, her eyes serious now, "And we both know how much this team means to you."
The security guard finally unlocked the gate at 8:02.
We rushed inside, our footsteps echoing in the quiet store.
The fluorescent lights flickered on one by one, casting an artificial glow over the racks of clothing.
Morgan and I hurried toward the back, where the sneaker section was located.
The tile floor felt cold and slightly sticky under my feet, even though I was wearing socks.
We weaved past empty clothing racks, our footsteps echoing in the stillness of the morning.
The store was dimly lit, with only a few overhead lights illuminating the space.
The air smelled of fresh fabric and plastic packaging.
As we approached the back wall, Morgan pointed to a display of athletic footwear.
Several boxes of Nike and Adidas sneakers were stacked on metal shelves, their sizes visible on the side labels.
I scanned the shelves, looking for size 7 boxes.
Morgan stood on her toes to check the higher rows.
My fingers traced along each label, pushing aside size 6 boxes that were now too small for me.
The fluorescent lights flickered above as we searched methodically from left to right.
A stack of orange boxes caught my eye - they were all Nike basketball shoes like my old pair.
I pulled them down one by one, checking the sizes on the sides.
Morgan kept time on her phone, reminding me how many minutes we had left before tryouts started.
My heart raced as I scanned the labels, searching for a size 7.
"Found one!" Morgan exclaimed, holding up a box triumphantly.
I grabbed it from her hands, flipping open the lid to reveal the pristine sneakers inside.
"Perfect," I breathed, relief washing over me, "Now let's hope they bring some luck."
I sat down on the metal bench, sliding the new size 7 sneakers onto my feet.
The laces felt stiff and unfamiliar in my hands as I threaded them through the eyelets.
When I stood up, something felt off.
The shoes pinched at my toes but felt loose around the heel.
I took a few experimental steps, my feet sliding around inside.
Morgan watched me pace back and forth between the shelves.
"These don't feel right," I told her, my voice cracking with frustration.
I demonstrated by jogging in place, the shoes clunking awkwardly against the floor.
Morgan frowned, crossing her arms, "Maybe they mislabeled the size?"
I shook my head, glancing at the box again, "No, it's definitely a 7, but something's off."
She leaned closer, inspecting the shoes, "Could it be that your feet have changed since last season?"
I moved along the wall of shoes, Morgan following closely behind.
We pulled down every size 7 box we could find, stacking them next to the bench.
The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an artificial glow over the rows of sneakers.
I sat down on the metal folding chair, my fingers tracing along the labels.
Adidas, Under Armour, and Nike boxes were stacked haphazardly beside me.
Morgan checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, "8:25 AM."
My stomach twisted with anxiety as I grabbed the first box - a pair of black Adidas sneakers.
I slid them onto my feet, lacing them up tightly.
But as soon as I stood up, I knew they were too narrow.
My toes felt cramped and pinched inside the stiff leather.
Next came a pair of Under Armour shoes - they looked sleek and modern, but when I tried to walk, the heel slipped off my foot. "Nope," I muttered, kicking them off and reaching for another box.
The clock ticked closer to 9:00 AM, each passing minute heightening my panic.
Morgan watched me intently as I tried on pair after pair of shoes.
Some were too tight around the toe; others felt too loose in the heel.
My feet began to ache from all the trying on and taking off.
Just when I thought we'd run out of options, my eyes landed on a box that had been tucked away in a corner.
It was a pair of black and red Nikes - not the exact style I wanted, but close enough.
The box was slightly crushed on one corner, but when I opened it, the shoes inside looked pristine.
I quickly slid them onto my feet and tied the laces tightly. For a moment, I just stood there, testing the fit by shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
My toes didn't feel cramped or pinched; instead, they had just enough room to wiggle slightly.
The heel stayed put when I walked around in them.
Encouraged by this discovery, I bounced up and down on my toes a few times to see how they felt in motion.
Morgan glanced at her phone again, "It's 8:45, we need to hurry."
I nodded, tying the laces tightly, "These will have to do; I can't waste any more time."
She gave me a reassuring smile, "You've got this, and those shoes are going to carry you all the way."
I stood at the outlet store counter, watching the cashier scan my new black and red Nikes.
My hands trembled slightly as I counted out the money Dad had given me for the shoes.
A few coins slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor, but Morgan quickly picked them up for me.
The cashier cut off the tags and handed me the box, "Here you go, miss."
But I didn't put it in my bag; instead, I sat down on a bench near the entrance and began to lace them up again.
Morgan knelt beside me, double-knotting the fresh white laces so they wouldn't come undone during tryouts.
I checked my phone - 9:15 AM.
We had forty-five minutes until tryouts started.
I stuffed my old sneakers and the shoebox into my gym bag before pushing through the glass doors with Morgan.
Morgan glanced at me as we walked briskly toward the gym, "You know, those shoes might be more than just lucky."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep up with her pace, "What do you mean?"
She smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "I overheard Coach saying he's scouting for the varsity team today."