Walk of the Town

Not staring was difficult. The raggedy homeless man shuffled, not because he was worn out and old, but because the shiny black leather shoes pinched his feet. He wanted his comfortable-as-slippers shoes. The whisper soft quiet ones, broken in, that molded and sculpted themselves to the structure of his long feet.

For years, Rodney walked the streets. Many people recognized him, some nodded, and all gave him a wide berth. His face, a scribble of lines and scars was punctuated by a crooked nose. His habit was to hum and sing songs on the corner of State and Madison. People didn’t hang around and listen; they merely tossed coins or an occasional dollar bill into non-labeled tin can. At the end of the day he would get himself a meal, or see a friend on lower Wacker Drive. Or, even walk along the lake and admire the boats in the harbor like he did tonight and dream.

Removing the stiff leather shoes, Rodney made tracks in the sand, walking to the water’s edge and dipped his feet into the dark chilling water to relieve the blisters. A young couple strolled behind him and made their way further up the beach. After they spread out a blanket they drank beer from a red cooler. Their voices, giddy, traveled with the west breeze.

“Let’s go into the water.”

“But, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“I brought one for you.”

“Sure ya did. Don’t lie to me.”

“See. It’s the invisible kind.”

“Jerk.”

“Okay…barefoot then.”

When the young people were knee deep in the lake, Rodney, carrying his shoes, walked past their blanket and helped himself to a can of beer. To be fair he left his shiny leather shoes behind.

The young man’s flip-flops were so much more comfortable.


Word Count: 299