It all began with a sneeze. Not a polite, dainty sneeze—a full-blown, window-rattling ACHOO! that sent Yoana’s dusty sneaker flying out of her hand and into the great unknown. For one glorious moment, it spun through the air like a slow-motion scene from an action movie. Then gravity kicked in, and the shoe vanished beyond the edge of her apartment window.
Most people would’ve sighed, mourned the loss, and moved on. But not Yoana. She was a woman of principle. That sneaker had survived three music festivals, one breakup, and a suspicious puddle in a parking garage. It deserved better.
She grabbed her keys, threw on her remaining shoe (a fashion statement no one asked for), and jumped into her little red car like she was chasing a fugitive. Thus began The Great Shoe Quest.
She followed the imagined flight path through winding streets, past bakeries that smelled like betrayal (no time to stop), and over a bridge where ducks quacked in judgment. Her GPS kept rerouting. Her dignity was hanging by a shoelace.
Then—victory. There it was, perched proudly atop a roadside scarecrow like it had just won a fashion contest. Yoana climbed up, triumphant… only to freeze.
The scarecrow was wearing her other shoe.
She stared. The scarecrow stared back. Somewhere, a crow cawed dramatically.
“How…?” she whispered.
The scarecrow said nothing, but its stitched-on smirk seemed to whisper, “I collect souls. And footwear.”
Yoana retrieved both shoes, drove home barefoot (for balance), and told the story to anyone who’d listen. No one believed her. Except the ducks. They know things.
Moral: Never underestimate a sneeze. Or a scarecrow with style.