My shoes must have a very confusing life. Any pair of them, really, it's all the same. Most of the time they are on top of the world, but they often are being walked on/in. And, to all appearances, their owner hates them. They must wake up from their shoe-dreams, to find me shoving my feet in their faces.
"What has my life come to?" they must cry as I fall down the stairs, dragging their bodies with me. "What god would allow this?" They might lament as my feet find the only pile of dog feces in the neighborhood. Then, at last, after a long day of being kicked around and trodden on, I finally take them off. Then, that terrifying beast of a 5 month old dog comes barreling towards them, picking them up and attempting to destroy their forms. Perhaps in a past life they were cruel to puppies and this is their reckoning.
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