click clack.

click-clack.

click-clack.

i remember being little and listening to the sound of high-heeled shoes walking down the hallway, on the linoleum in the laundry room, climbing onto the escalator at the mall.

click-clack

click-clack

my own feet hit the pavement in new york city. they sit at the bar, they climb into a taxi, they faithfully take me home.

all of my shoes are lined up in a row— pair after pair of high heels, covered in soot from the city, saturated with my grown-up life. i’m watching them now, from my bed, hearing their familiar sound in my head,

click-clack

i made it this far

click-clack

i’m still here.