These boots were new—brand new. She cursed herself for not having the foresight to coat them in that spray stuff that makes dirt easier to clean off or whatever but it was far too late now. Her right foot made an unpleasant squelching sound as she stepped in what appeared to be brain matter though it was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the gore that coated the elevator floor.
Always one for persevering despite her surroundings— she pressed the button for the 4th floor with a carefully manicured nail. The doors began to close but once they hit a hunk of flesh that obstructed their path, they started opening again; the machinery not having the intelligence to discern a dismembered forearm from a tardy passenger. The woman tsked and kicked the fleshy limb through the door with her already bloody boot. It rolled into the hallway leaving a trail of gooey coagulated blood behind. The boots were ruined already so there was no sense getting her hands, and possibly her blouse, dirty as well.
Once again she pressed the button for the fourth floor and gave a smile when the doors closed without issue.
