What the heel of a shoe
remembers.

A quiet morning. The kind that asks for nothing.
Before you reach for the door, look down at the shoes by the entrance — the familiar pair, the ones you wear without thinking.
Pick one up. Turn it over.

The sole tells a story.

One heel may be worn more on the outside, the other on the inside. The front may be smoother on one foot than the other. The pattern is never perfectly symmetrical — and that, in itself, is the message.

For years, without your noticing, the shoes have been keeping a quiet record. A record of how you stand. How you sit. How you walk. Where, in your body, the weight has been resting.

The body is not separate from the shoes it wears. The shoes are the body's most honest witness.

"My face looks different from one side to the other."
"My shoulders are not at the same height."
"My head aches, my neck is tight, and I cannot quite say why."

The mirror gives you the symptom. The shoe, perhaps, gives you the cause.