Steeling himself for any eventuality, Matt yanked the door to the dryer open.  Involuntarily, he took a step back.  Maybe he was expecting something to jump out at him.  He was pretty damned spooked about the lights and the dryer doors as it was.  But, nothing jumped out at him.  Nothing moved, at all.

Slowly he leaned forward until he could see something laying on the bottom of the dryer tub.  Quickly regaining his composure and sense of confidence, he reached in and pulled out a pair of black, Converse shoes.  High top, the basketball kind. "Now, how the heck did these get in here?" he wondered.

It was still fairly dark in the laundry room, but Matt could easily see that the shoes appeared worn.  He set them on the folding table and started to walk back to the washers when something in one of the shoes caught his attention.  A small piece of white sticking out the top of the left shoe.  Matt turned back and plucked the paper out of the shoe.  He squinted at the writing on the paper and holding it an angle to catch what little light was filtering through the windows, he read, "Put these on.  You won't regret it.  Don't put these on and you will die."

Matt dropped the note like it was hot potato.  He took a couple steps back from the shoes and looked around the laundry.  "Anybody here?" he called out.  "Come on, this has stopped being anywhere near funny."

There was no answer, no movement, nothing to give resonance to his call.  He glanced back at the shoes.  This has got be someone's idea of a very sick joke.  But, Matt, new around here, didn't know anyone who would pull something like this.  Hell, he didn't know hardly anyone at all.

Cautiously, he leaned over and picked up the fallen note.  He read it again.  He looked at the shoes.  He stuffed the note in his pants pocket and picked up the shoes.  "Don't put these and you will die," the note had read.  Jesus, what the **** am I supposed to do, now?

He decided, what the hey, he'd put the shoes on.  No harm in that is there?  No.  Maybe a lot of harm if he didn't.  This was a scary situation and he was plenty scared.  A little pissed off.  A little curious.  But, mostly, he was scared.  He recalled some horror movies where the killer left notes.  The killer always kept the promises in his notes.  **** it!

Matt slipped off his own flip-flops and slid his feet into the Converse.  They fit perfectly.  They were warm, too and not just from the dryer.  Matt could feel a soft warmth surrounding his feet.  He turned from the folding table and walked several steps up and several steps back down.  He looked around.  No, no one was watching.  The laundry room remained void of anyone else.  Well, at least some exotic acid hasn't started eating my feet alive, he thought and chuckled at his own humor.

He walked back to the washers, in his "new" shoes and carried his laundry to the dryers.  He pushed the on button and slid up on the folding table, watching the dryer spin his clothes. 

It was several minutes before he noticed that he was feeling restless.  He was feeling like he needed to get out of the laundry room.  There was some place he wanted to be.  Some place he needed to be and he was already late.