A Day in the Life of a Pair of Shoes
A comedy by Brittany Barefield Morning Rush I've always believed shoes are useless without their owner, even if their owner sometimes seems useless. Every morning I'm startled awake when the closet door is flung open with a bang, yet I'm ready. The overhead light blinds me as I'm jerked from my rack. My owner, Whit, attempts to jam his socked feet inside me. He is late for school again. His clothes are as wrinkled as crumpled paper. His face is still damp from a hasty wake-up splash. I hear a water faucet running in the distance. If he wasn't too contrary to listen, I'd tell him he forgot to turn it off. He's too stubborn, even toward his girlfriend. She says, "Don't stop", but he always stops. Frantic hands snatch my black laces too tight and my tongue rolls under itself. We are uncomfortable, but Whit has no time to fix the problem. He rushes out the front door, slapping my K-Swiss soles hard across the plank flooring and painfully catching my heel in the door as it shuts. We make our way down the concrete steps and hop into the truck. For 20 minutes, I stomp on the gas pedal and tap the breaks. Whit drives crazy through morning traffic, hits a curb, and blows out the truck’s front tire. My rubber soles slam down onto the pavement as Whit jumps out to inspect the damage. He angrily kicks the blown tire and my too-tight lace snaps. He yanks the shoe off and throws it far into a nearby field. I soar through the fresh air, tongue flapping, before thudding onto the ground. Now I'm a lonely sneaker, missing my other half. I wait. In the distance, Whit yells obscenities. I see his large frame towering above the dewy weeds as he half limps, half runs toward me. We both know he can’t walk to school alone. I can smell the stinky insole of my partner shoe as he approaches. Whit picks me up like a new-found puppy and slips me onto his foot. His sock is damp, but I feel elated to hug his toes again as we jog along the earth toward his university. We don't worry about the truck we abandoned or how sweaty we will be once we reach the classroom. We have each other. Minus my owner, I am nothing. ___________________________________________________ |