Each pass of a wet cloth over the stiff rubber of the boots uncovered a brighter and brighter exterior, a happy sunshine yellow that alternated with faded black. She picked off spots of mildew with her fingernail, and fetched a sponge to scrub off persistent residue that wouldn't come off with the cloth. Her hands moved over them with an atypical level of care, gently and thorough.
When she'd finished, they looked nothing like new. They were still worn and used and lacked flexibility in places, were faded in patches that got too much sun, were scuffed on the insides from brushing against each other. Still, the little bees smiled up at her, bright and cheery and persistent.
Before now, they were nothing that she ever would have wanted, but they were perfect in this moment.
Once they were cleaned to a satisfactory level, she took a scraping from the heel of the right boot; it was the first one she'd put on, and there was a slim possibility that there was some significance there. She chewed her lip in thought as she reached for a clean slide to gently deposit the scraping on, pressing it firmly between two pieces of thin glass. The grains of soil screamed a high-pitched protest as she pinched the slide between her fingers, then placed it under a microscope.
Disappointingly normal. There was decreased activity, but that was fairly typical of Deus, she'd learned. She noted that there was marginally more activity from the organisms than those in previous samples, but found nothing else that interested her.
Frowning, she swept the boots onto the floor with the back of her arm. They still weren't safe to wear, but it was better than a lack of
anything. She slipped one foot in, then the other, and wiggled her toes until the boots fit.
Hers now.
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