The Shoes

 

I found my shoes the summer after fifth grade at a garage sale and decided to buy them on a whim, probably because they were only five bucks. Somehow I ended up wearing them nearly to death. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about them. The white canvas lining is deteriorating at the places where the heel and ball of my feet have weathered away the tattered, faded cloth. On the outside, dirt and mud have been caked into the pattern of depressions in the rubber, and pieces of stitching have been pulled away from the plain-weave black twill, faded from the long summer runs they've endured. But I feel that the decrepit state in which my shoes are only serves to reveal the soul of them, as if along with the aging and weathering, the shoes developed some sort of greater understanding of life.

 

But the shoes do have a simplistic, and in some minds - greater, understanding of life, purely from bearing witness to the miraculous ups and downs of my unremarkable life.

 

Reviews

This is interesting. I like it. The only thing I'd think of doing is breaking up that first paragraph a little bit. Maybe after "Somehow I ended up wearing them nearly to death" you could start a new paragraph, because you go into a whole description of the shoes. It's your choice what to do, of course. I'm just thinking that larger paragraphs are often harder to read. Good job. This little story shows that you have promise.