“Did you see!” The Nike Air shoes in the locker room spoke in an excited voice.
“See what?” asked the pair of cotton socks lying rolled up next to it. There was a fresh pair next to them, washed and ironed.
“How he was praising us!” The shoes beamed with pride.
The socks didn’t answer. They were barely interested in the new pair of shoes I had purchased only the day before.
“Don’t you think we were made to be worshipped?” The shoes said, gloating over their aerodynamic shape.
“Who worships a shoe?” the clean pair of socks snapped back.
“People do. They spend a bomb on us, and then they make sure we are not stolen,” the shoes said.
“That still doesn’t make you a god,” the socks argued.
“Of course, it does. People take us to the places where they want to be admired. And, look at you. All sweaty and smelly,” the shoes said.
The socks went quiet. The shoes were right. Their owners would wear them to race tracks, football grounds, or morning jogs. They even wore them on dates to impress their partners.
I opened the door of the shower room. They must have heard me coming. One of the socks from the fresh pair winked at its mate. It broke free, rolled over the cast iron bench, landed on the floor, and slid under the locker units. I walked up to the bench and dumped the old pair of socks in my duffel bag. I picked up the fresh sock and looked around for the other one. After some time, I gave up. I then put on the shoes without any socks and kept the lone sock inside my locker before walking away.
The next morning, I was back at my locker. I found the missing sock lying on the floor and picked it up. I pulled out its pair from the locker and kept them on the bench before heading to the shower room.
The sneakers were unusually quiet.
“What is that smell?” the socks on the bench said, sniffing around.
“It’s us,” the voice came from below. The shoes were lying there.
“Ah!” The socks nodded their heads and asked, “What happened to the gods?”
“We are no gods without you,” the sneakers spoke with humility. “You keep us clean and fresh. You are our armour. Without you, we are vulnerable,” they said.
“And, smelly!” the socks on the bench said, laughing.
The shoes were laughing with them.
