There was a shoe again this morning on the sidewalk on the east side of Congress Avenue. It was just past the landscaping border in front of the Statesman Apartments. You know the one, there just before the grilled cheese truck and the juice cart.
The shoe was gray canvas this time with white rubber around the sole. It was a lefty and on its side facing the street. I’m not sure what that means but the laces were untied and loose unlike the shoe I found just before John’s accident.
John was struck on a Tuesday. All the items in his cart were scattered along the storm gutter. His paperback novels with torn covers and dog-eared pages identified him to me. It was a blue Nike with a white swoosh that I’d seen that morning over near the ice cream shop.
There was a brown sandal with a broken heel strap the month before John’s accident, in the mulch in front of the San Jose Hotel. The day after I saw it, I read in the newspaper about the homeless women named Rose. She just stepped from the curb into rushing traffic nowhere near the cross-walk, so they say.
I wonder if they’ve done it yet. You know the ones who wait for the shoe to appear and give them a signal. Could I move the gray shoe and change someone’s fate? What if the shoe is meant for me?