A letter to my black patent leather, high-heeled Ferragamo Mary Janes

Dear black patent leather, high-heeled Ferragamo Mary Janes:

It's time to say goodbye. I will miss you.

You were already two years old by the time I first laid eyes on you, down the hall of my freshman dorm, in Michelle's closet. I was looking for some fancy black footwear and Michelle suggested I borrow something from her. There you were, on the top tier of her shoe rack, a shiny size 7 and a half. I was in love.

Michelle didn't wear you much, because she was partial to her platform Mary Janes with a more matte finish. I began to wear you more and more, and over time, your form shifted ever so slightly to accommodate my foot. You sat in her closet, but you were my shoes.

One fateful night, Michelle and I went to a fraternity formal, her with Jesus as her date, and I with Fur-fur. You were the perfect complement to my black velvet backless dress. Michelle wore the platforms with her burgundy baby doll dress. Michelle drank too much and fell down the stairs, breaking her shoes. For weeks, she wore you nearly every day and I was in a state of panic. I thought I'd lost you forever.

Luckily, Michelle found a new pair of Mary Janes to occupy her feet with, and I had you back. And senior year, when Michelle screwed me and the other roommates out of thousands of dollars and we threw a "Go shopping in Michelle's closet" party, you became mine forever. You've served me well over the years. The first time the roommate saw you on my feet, she said Oh my! Those shoes are so cute! You look like you have little doll feet! Many a compliment did I get because of you.

Now, you've lost your luster. Your patent leather is cracked, and the heels are dangerously close to falling off. Your tour of duty on my feet is officially over, you cute little things. Goodbye.

Love,
Jess