They came on an ordinary Monday. When he opened the box it wasn’t ordinary anymore. He wore them to school the next day. His yearly allowance on his feet. Some kid he didn’t really know noticed them in the locker room. “Hey, I like your shoes.” He nodded calmly--unbearably proud. He tried again on Wednesday, but all the conversation was on some other topic, something he doesn't remember. He saw them in his closet on Thursday morning and remembered his initial excitement, third times the charm. At the end of the day he put them on and pointed them out to his friends. “Sweet.” One said, “Cool.” They moved on, did you hear what the science teacher said? When he got home he shoved them in the back of his closet. He could feel the tears coming and punched his pillow, real men don’t cry.

He took them out again at basketball season, tried them on, they still fit. He went to the store, bought new elites, stuck all his stuff in his bag. In the locker room he put them on, put on his uniform. After practice someone noticed, “Hey, you still have those old things, the newer editions are so much better.” Not mean, just condescending. He laughed it off, “Yeah man, I’m getting new ones for Christmas, just got to deal with these for now.” He went home, called up his grandparents, I don’t want all that other stuff, just these shoes. They scoffed, when I was your age, but on Christmas they were under the tree. He unwrapped them, the shoes he didn’t want and watched as everyone else got excited over surprises and long awaited desires.

He came into practice, first day back, a sea of new shoes. A couple people noticed his, a couple people complimented his in passing, and then it wasn’t good it was just enough. When the next edition came out, when someone recommended some other brand, when the new season started, he just shrugged. When he made some money he bought a couple video games, at Christmas he got a bean bag chair for his room, and eventually he got new shoes but not until the old ones were falling apart.