On a rainy exploration that ended several hours later than originally planned, I was left with the bravest decision to let go of my favorite pair of flats.
I walked around a city, home to a millions of lives, and road gutters. It amazed me to a deep extent how adults, teenagers, a retired old couple, or even a street rat could all coexist happily in one place. Every wall and every path etched with innumerable stories, yet here I was looking up to a cloudy sky and wondering how even a thunderstorm didn’t shake the faith or the lives of these millions.
I took one last look at my flats, drenched from an entire day of walking around in puddles of joy. As the night fell, I asked myself.
“Should I take you back with me?”
My flats seemed to look 50 shades darker than grey. It seemed tired.
“I kept you company for quite a while, it’s time to cut me some slack, Salma.”
“Alright, flats. You’ve been a good friend.” I sighed.
As I bid a bittersweet farewell to this heavily stormy city, I realized I was jealous. My flats that had been part of my life from the frequent trips to McDonald’s or even to my regular classes, was back in a land of mystery and fairytales. A land where a cow and people would cross the street at the same time, and no one seemed worried about it. A land where millions would arrive to find ‘inner peace’.
Not soon after my vigorous thought process regarding the feelings of my now-old pair of flats, my dad seemed worried.
“Are you sure you’re okay with these?” he asked me.
“We’ve got stories to write”, I told my shiny flats.