In the past week I’ve seen multiple single shoes lying on the ground in my neighborhood. Yesterday it was a brown leather mule in Goodale Park (It was nice actually: kitten heel and gold buckle). Two days ago it was a running shoe on the sidewalk and the day before that a flip-flop in the alley. I keep thinking about the situations that caused these single shoe syndromes to occur.
Did some sorority girl elicit a fight after swigging too much strawberry Boone’s Farm and get her Steve Madden kicked off? Or maybe an emo kid challenged a friend to an impromptu barefoot race? Perhaps some gal in Clintonville wanted to show off her perfect pedicure, and while removing her shoes a gale of wind whisked one of her heels all the way here? I bet someone accepted a dare to walk barefoot around Victorian Village in exchange for a cone of Jeni’s Sweet Corn and Black Raspberry, that’s probably what happened. But then where's the other shoe? Ugh, it just doesn't make sense.
I’ve lost silver hoop earrings, a digital camera, and partial recollections of evenings, but never my precious footwear.
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