Shoes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 10, 2020

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Submitted: February 10, 2020

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February 10, 2020

Shoes

By Pauline P. Pipa

 

So many pretty people go about their daily lives and pass by me without seeing me.  Every day I watch them like a ghost who sees and hears everything but goes unseen and unheard.  You cannot imagine how loud a heeled shoe sounds on the floor, even a busy floor, when you actually listen.  A child’s cry and a young woman’s laugh will make you turn your head and stare if you listen.  A watchful policeman’s walk, an anxious businessman’s pace, and an old lady’s struggle all have a sound of their own. 

As I sit here, I listen to the sounds of the station, to the sounds of the world around me and I feel like I know these people.  We have never been introduced but I know them. I know the man who wears cowboy boots who stops to chat up the girl selling cigarettes in the stall to my left. I know the old lady who shuffles to the bench on my right, sits down, and plays with her rosary beads.  I know the young man who walks with a limp, due to a football injury.  He tries to run but drags that right foot behind him.  He takes the train every morning at 6:15 a.m.  The well-dressed couple who always meet in the center of the station and whisper sweet nothings into each other ear.  They meet in secret, discreet glances of affection dance in their eyes.  The man nervously shuffles his feet as they talk, and the woman rhythmically scrapes the bottom of her right shoe against the floor anxiously.  They part ways with a handshake and quick exit. 

I sit here every day and sell cheap candy to help the blind.  You see, funny, how that word came to me, I am blind.  I do not see yet I see much.  The old adage that says when you lose one sense the others improve is correct.  My sense of sound has amplified tremendously since I lost my sight.  In a way I see more clearly now.  When my outward view of the world was taken away, my inward view was called upon.  So, I sit here, and I listen. I listen to the shoes.  



© Copyright 2020 Pauline P. Pipa. All rights reserved.

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