wearing her shoes

Today I took a pair of her Nikes to the gym. They had been laying in the closet since her death, and I needed a less worn down pair. Her Nikes were still black, unscuffed, and presumably more cushioned.

When I slip my feet into them, I notice the laces are still tied. I wonder when she touched them for the last time. I wonder when she touched me for the last time, and I am angry I can't remember my mother's last hug.

I notice how her feet must have been a bit wider than my own. I feel her ghost in the spaces between my foot and the innards of the shoe.

I quickly undo the laces and yank them tighter, so tight my feet can't breathe anymore. Throbbing bloodflow to my toes choked by shoelaces. I think pain should make me happier to be alive.

I workout for an hour and a half. I am sweaty and I want to feel sore.

By the time I exit, I forget the shoes on my feet were once my mother's.