"These might work." I hold up a pair of sturdy hiking boots, their soles thick and treaded. "Randall, what size do you wear?"
"Eleven." He snatches the boots from my hands, examining them closely. "Not bad. I'll try them on."
We fan out across the store, rifling through boxes and displays. It's a shoe store, so there isn't much else to look at.
"Oh my God, these are actually cute." Marissa's voice carries a hint of her old self as she slips on a pair of trail runners. "And comfortable. I feel like I could run a marathon."
"Don't forget to look for boots," I remind her as I look for a pair for myself. "Marian? Did you find anything?"
A muffled groan answers me. I follow the sound to find her slumped against a display, clutching a bottle of water.
"Come on," I say, gentler than I feel. "We need to get you proper shoes."
