Before the winter break, I took a trip to the Western Student Rec Center. I was just a regular student, much like you. I went to class, I bought Timmies in the UCC, and I tried to hit the gym once in a while.
On this particular trip to the gym, however, the perfume of fear and pain laced the air. Busy rushing to and from class, I played it off as the groundskeepers laying down fresh fertilizer- too distracted to notice the obvious foreshadowing going on.
That day, I had constructed the perfect outfit… I had the stylin’ jacket, just the right pants, my hair was perfect, all topped off with my very favourite boots in the whole world. They were classic: honey-brown leather, perfectly molded to the contours of my feet, half-calf height, with a zipper up the side and a two-inch heel. They were glorious.
When I got to the gym, I stowed all of my stuff in my locker, then looked down at my boots. It was obvious they were not going to fit. I looked around at all the other boots nicely lined up under the change room bench, right under their respective lockers… They were all safe, so mine should be too!
Casting one, final look at my boots, I locked my locker, turned around, and walked away.
Throughout my entire workout, something felt amiss. I cut it short and went back down to the change room.
That is when I discovered that my precious boots were GONE.
My world ended on that day- heart shattered into a million pieces.
Don’t let this be you.
A word of advice so you don’t end up like me… Sad, and bootless.