So last week I took four pairs of shoes to the very odd little shoe repair I’ve always gone to. It’s a complete mess and has ancient merchandise sitting around, not all of it shoe-related (a metal kit for a model Dusenberg; yellowed shoe inserts; incontinence pads). Unless you call out to him he will stay hidden in his little workshop area and ignore you. But he does a good job and he’s been there my whole life.
Today I went down to pick up the shoes; he hadn’t even started them. I was all resolving never to go there again when I noticed that he no longer was wearing the special shoe he always had because one leg was much longer than the other. He’s not wearing it because both legs have been amputated below the knee and he has prostheses upon which he’s walking. I know he’s semi-retired and has the shop open half time to supplement his Social Security, because we had quite a conversation last week. So I said it was no problem, I’d come back next week, and took my privileged butt home.