Andrew Plast is a shrewd boy. He stalks street corners at night and burgles for food. No one likes him. Not even his dead mother liked him. Perhaps only the rats like him, since he at times gives them crumbs to feed upon.

  On this murky, dark day, he once again acts upon his shrewdness. Slinking past a barefoot and gangly young man, he slowly creeps up to a single room apartment that he noticed had a door that was slightly ajar.

  After finding no witnesses, he slips through the door and into the room, entering the apartment.

  It’s a small room, with a mattress on the floor and a small box in a corner and a drawer in the wall.

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  After a moment's hesitation, Andrew creeps up to the drawer in the wall and rips it open. Inside, nothing. Just dust and spiders.

  He hastily closes it and then runs to the mattress on the floor, lifting it to look at what is underneath. Just a dusty floor.

  Feeling irritated, he quickly throws down the mattress and jumps towards the box, peeking at what lays inside. Score!

  It’s a pair of shiny, red shoes. Beautiful shoes, fit for a noble.

  With an expression of utter glee on his dirty face, Andrew lifts the shoes by the toes and sprints out of the small apartment.

  It’s dark outside, darker than it was before.

  After looking both ways and finding no witnesses, he shoves the shoes on his sweaty feet and skips away with them towards his home, enjoying the slight clippity-cloppity sounds the shoes make when they hit the road.