He paced the store. They were warm—gloriously warm—but he noticed a problem. The back was open. His heels were still catching the morning breeze. He needed a fortress, not a porch. The Choice
"These," Arthur whispered, wiggling his toes. "These are the SUVs of footwear."
He started his journey at The Haberdashery , a shop that smelled of cedar shavings and expensive tobacco.
"I need slippers," Arthur told the clerk, a man whose mustache looked professionally sculpted. "But not just any slippers. I want something that says, 'I might read a leather-bound book today, or I might just eat cereal in the dark.'"
Finally, the clerk reached for a box on the top shelf. Inside were the . They weren't flashy. They looked like something a very cozy monk would wear.