I've been needing new shoes for a while now, but more than merely my dread of shopping has kept me from purchasing a new pair. You see, I more than liked this last pair. I loved them. We had developed a bond that evolves only over long periods of time through shared experiences.
We went to restaurants, church servies, plays, and concerts. Together, we stood through hour after hour and semester after semester of classroom lectures. I felt their support as we stomped up and down sidewalks to the mental soundtrack of Carl Orff. Not even our chiropractor's no-heel mandate could drive us apart!
But then the other day, I felt something strange: only a thin, papery shell remained of what used to give the balls of my feet such firm support. The clicks of my heels had become clacks of bare nail against floor.
Ah, my dears!
Although I did not want to let you go, I could not remain deaf to your cries of pain. I want you to know, that although it may not have seemed so at the time, much thought and care went into choosing your replacements. Don't let those hastily-spent ten minutes at Shoe Carnival fool you.
Goodbye, my loves.