One golden pump flew into the corner. Hair tumbled down, bobby pins scattering over the floor. Opening the fridge, Eleanor nabbed a can of beer and popped it open.
Bob stormed in the front door, glittering in his blue suit. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t yell at me; it’s been a long night. I lost my shoe.”
“How’s he going to fall in love with you if you keep leaving early?”
A knock came at the open door. The two conspirators whirled to see the millionaire standing outside the cheap apartment, holding a golden pump.
“I think you dropped this.”
Today's Novel Idea Prompted by: "She'd had enough of parties."