So from 5:45 to 5:56, I shuffled/dragged my left foot down the street and gave a silent prayer of thanks that Whole Body was nearby and that I remembered they had a small footwear section. I went to that section. I did that thing of deliberately searching the section about three times-- each time slower than the last-- just to be absolutely certain my size wasn't hidden in plain sight. It wasn't. Highly concerned, I turned away.
The next store with footwear was on 23rd and one avenue over. I was on 25th and couldn't fathom how I'd get there without having to succumb to walking barefoot on the hot city sidewalks and streets. Barefoot. Bare. Foot.
Looking around the store, perhaps a bit desperately, I saw a wall with a small selection of flip flops. I rarely wear flip flops in the city, so I hadn't even been thinking of flip flops. But in that moment, if I could find my size, guess who'd be going home in flip flops?
Size found, I shuffled over to the register. The young man who rung me up asked if I needed a bag. I declined stating they would be on my feet before I left the store as the ones I had on were not long for this world. He kindly got out the scissors, cut off the tags and then pointed me towards a section in the store where I could sit and make the exchange. Afterwards, new shoes on, old ones dropped of in the first trash can I located outside the store, I could once again walk the city streets and sidewalks with the pace of someone on a mission: the mission to get home.
I am grateful I found footwear. I am grateful I had the money to buy said footwear. I am grateful that if the sole had to come apart, it came apart where I could do something about it. I am seriously grateful