"What's up with you, man?" Chris nudged his friend and smiled. He'd noticed earlier that Don was trying to go for that baggy-pants look, but this was ridiculous.
Don, however, was mortified. Luckily, no one but his friend had witnessed this embarrassing turn of events. "I think I put on Scott's pants by accident," he said, pulling them up. Maybe so, he thought, but it was DEFINITELY his own belt he was wearing, and even on its tightest hole, it was holding his pants halfway down his ass. "Uh, let's get that shoe, OK?" he said quickly to distract both Chris and himself. Chris shrugged, not picking upon Don's distraction.
They pushed the elevator button, but according to the indicator panel, it seemed to be stuck in the basement. "The janitor's probably loading it up with his cart and stuff. Let's walk down and see," said Chris, who was impatient to eat dinner so they could get good seats for the movie.
"OK," said Don, following him to the stairs. Descent was difficult in one shoe and voluminous pants, and on the way down, Don noticed that his shirt and jacket sleeves were covering most of the hand he had sliding down the rail.
Weird.
The exited the stairwell and saw that the janitor had indeed propped the elevator door open. Don's shoe was still on the floor, and he picked it up curiously. It was the same style as his shoe, certainly, but was it his? This shoe looked quite a bit too large to fit him. AND it was tied. If this were his shoe, how had his foot slipped out?
Chris watched as he sat against the wall and slid the shoe, still tied, onto his foot. No, it was far too big to be his comfortable old sneaker . . . but it matched his other shoe, the one that had never left his foot, perfectly--and they were the same size.