On the subject of shoes

She told me my feet are cold. Of course they are cold. Many years ago, they had their hearts broken. They had fallen in love with a pair of shoes. Slip-ons, to be exact. My feet could only tolerate shoes that required tie-ing of any sort. Manual manipulation from the higher ups just to get together? My feet weren't up for that. These slip-ons though, they were the kind of shoes that only fit on the right feet, and my god did my feet feel they were those feet. They stayed together for several years, rarely ever separate from each other. Of course, my feet and these shoes could not go everywhere together; certain occasions called for certain attire, and these slip-ons simply could not come to these gatherings. During those times, my feet longed for the delicate comfort of those slip-ons. Shoes don't last forever, of course, and there came a point in time where these slip-ons, so ragged and dirty with use, could stay no longer. I tossed them away, to the silent chagrin of my feet. Their toes curled close, the heels weighed heavy on the ground and caused my entire body to ache when I walked. Of course my feet are cold, I told her then. I haven't worn socks in forever.