Under the noon sun, I retrace my path home.
I feel the same as before, but now my pants are soiled at the knees. As I approach the intersection of Second Avenue, my street, I notice something I've never noticed before.
High above the pavement shoes hang. Pairs and pairs of sneakers suspended on the electric wires, swaying in the wind. I had never noticed them there before. Not once. But from the looks of them they had been there for months, maybe years.
There are nearly thirty pairs.