Plethora

The truth was, she had too many shoes.

It was a simple fact, but Ellie hated to admit it. One entire half of her closet was for heels, flats, sandals, and boots. The skirts and blouses and slacks were all nice too, but the shoes, oh the shoes.

She'd begun her obsession at age 4, watching The Wizard of Oz and those ruby red slippers. Then she discovered her mother's stilletos. After a few tumbles down the stairs, she'd mastered walking in them, and she'd never looked back.

Now she did her best not to look at her credit card bills. Just pay the minimum, she told herself. Then cut back. Eventually you'll pay it all off.

But inevitably she'd see a sale down on Sixth Street, or an exquisite pair of Jimmy Choos in a boutique window, and she'd put off her reformation for another month.