Dingy and raggedy, my shoes have worn out. Now over a year old, they have transformed, the color faded, the suede smoothed and toughened like last nights pizza, which upon its excessive exposure to the radiation of your microwave, has become oddly unpleasant. They are tired, and perhaps I will replace them. They stink mildly of the pond water I made the horrible mistake of stepping in. I dislike them, but they are my only shoes. And with this preamble, I invite the reader to take a little walk in them.

            You wake up to the sound of your father yelling. You sleep in your room in the basement, and the sound seems to creep slowly through the room. “Get the hell up”, he yells. “Its 6:15.” Why? Why would you get up at 6:15, or better yet, why would he think you had any intention of getting up at that time, when no morning yet have you risen up the steps from the basement earlier than 6:30? You announce this thought to him, impressed that your morning mind has synthesized a coherent statement.

            The alarm on your phone goes off. It is Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, a beloved song before it was responsible for waking you up. It is 6:30. You shower. You put on some clothes. You brush your teeth. You fall back asleep. Someone calls you to tell you to wake back up and get to their house or they’re leaving. Now. So you grab a coat bolt out the door, up the street, back down the street to retrieve your forgotten notebook, back up the street, onto the driveway. The garage is closed, and there is no one there. You, however, are not fooled. Searching through your pockets, you inquire to the pocket gods. “Where is my phone?” When your numb fingers touch the hard plastic of the cheap phone, you know they have answered. Your call is quick.

            “Hey, where are you at?”

            “I’m getting out of the shower, be out in a second.” He replies.