these shoes. I haven't worn them since the night I saw you again since the Last time I saw you for the Second time.

I've wondered. charcoal black splatter. chain grease and rain. blacktop and grit. dusty water from the sky. tight when I put them on. then I realized.

I stepped out of the bar with you into the sudden, pouring rain. My right foot instantly wet and cold, a new hole discovered. The left dry: duct tape. a rushed so long. see you again with a question mark hovering at the end. mentally hopping from foot to foot. afraid it was only me.

It's been 39 days.