It’s been 6 days.  I feel deserted out here, alone, forgotten.

That last, fateful day, I could tell she loved me.  Could tell she would do anything to keep me safe.

I spent the whole morning tensed, every inch of my body clenched, hardened, clinging on, facing into the storm.  Ready.  But for what? To be left behind? Forgotten?

The rain came at us, heavier than we’ve ever seen before.  Colder, wetter, rainier rain than even the stormiest of storms.

She knew she needed me, knew that without me, she would have to face it alone. She needed to feel the grounded warmth and comfort of love that only I can offer… But not now.  No.  I should have seen it coming, right from that first complaint about my wounds slowing us down that morning, I knew she was starting to pull away from me.

Now it’s clear to me that she’s given up.  Off gallivanting about in those brown leather boots she has clearly now given her heart to.  Not a second thought for what might have become of us.

I tried so hard to keep hold of my flapping sole with the help of an embarrassing length of duct tape.  Can you imagine? If another boot saw me?! I’d be a laughing stock…

And all for what?! So she could throw us over a clothes rack in a cold room for the best part of a week “Drying Out”?  Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.  And after we almost drowned for her!

Not my fault, it’s not easy being suede.

No respect for us. None. What a bitch.

The Right Grey Boot

A contribution to the series “Observations of an Inanimate Object”