The first time I saw the shoes, I thought it was a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers sat neatly beside Paul’s headstone, like someone had left them on the wrong grave.
I figured it had to be a grieving parent. People do strange things when they mourn. I know I did. When Paul passed, I spent an entire week making jars of jam that I was never going to eat.
A pair of sneakers on a headstone | Source: Midjourney
He had died suddenly, in an accident on the way home to me. And before I knew it, I was alone. Jam seemed to be the only thing that would make anything better.
But I moved the shoes aside, left my lilies, and went home after talking to Paul’s grave.The next time I visited, there were more shoes. Different pairs this time.
