The Lonely Shoe
A shoe lies forgotten at the bottom of the closet. Its mouth covered by deserted clothing and slowly choking on the musk of decay that lingers in the air. The closet waits to open; the house stands empty of life. All that remains sits within the closet, one lonely shoe and a pile of clothes.
When a new person opens the closet, they take a gander inside. A pile of clothes covered in dust, outdated and rancid. The adult-child’s face turns up in disgust at the smell. A hint of foul emotions build up, a gut feeling one might say. In comes the contractor. He nudges the old fabric with his shoe. The remains lie in the bottom of the closet, covered by clothing, and missing a shoe.