The shoes...

...were left at the bottom of the stairs. Yet the sound of the heels on the cobblestones was still ringing in her ears.
It was almost like a dream, the cold glass of coke, the small circular table, the fountain, the cobbles, the eyes locked in conversation.
The time had passed, weeks, months a year had flown by almost unnoticed by the rest of the world. Days had passed as months, months had flown like hours.
And now there they were, the shoes.
All that was left was to turn, to turn and look forward, to the future.