Wilson

Wilson spent his life being stepped on. You’d think a chalk drawing on a sidewalk wouldn’t mind, but recently Wilson had begun to feel unappreciated.

From his vantage point, he saw little but black business shoes. People hustling and bustling with no time for love.

It was therefore quite a shock when, on a sunny day, a pair of tattered white sneakers entered his view. Straight away, Wilson’s interest was piqued.

The sneakers loitered on the corner for a while before falling into lock-step behind a pair of business shoes. When they broke away, the weight of the sneakers was slightly heavier.

It took Wilson a while to recognise what the sneakers were doing.

A pickpocket was amongst them.

The next few days the weather turned cold and the sky cloudy. Wilson grew anxious. Rain would come and Wilson, exposed to the elements, would be washed away.

He cried out for help but the passing shoes either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. Wilson began to resent them all and found himself rooting for the thief.

It was a cool, grey day when Wilson noticed a car parked down the street. It had been there for quite a while.

Wilson was pondering the meaning of this when his favourite thief came around the corner in a hurry, as if seeing an opportunity.

The thief closed in on a pair of sandals pushing a pram. An easy target.

The car door opened and two sets of shoes got out. Straight away, Wilson knew they were different. These boots were serious, with thick rubber soles.

It was over. The boots caught the sneakers, right next to Wilson. There was a kerfuffle, and then; “Excuse me,” said one of the boots to the sandals, who were watching the commotion, “Is this your wallet?”

The sandals were bright yellow and reminded Wilson of his sunny youth when he had no fear of the rain.

“Yes, yes it is,” said the sandals. There was a pause, as if the mother was thinking, then she said, “I let this young man borrow it so he could get something to eat. Why? Is there a problem?”

The boots shifted. They didn’t believe her, but the mother insisted.

The boots had no choice. They released the sneakers and returned to the car.

The sneakers stood for a moment in front of the sandals. Awkward. Tentative.

Wilson flinched. A plastic fork flew from the pram and landed on his face.

Before Wilson could complain the sneakers stepped toward him and a face appeared. It was young and scruffy. He grabbed the fork and hesitated; his eyes twinkled as they noticed Wilson, and then he was gone.

The sandals were kind. They talked to the sneakers but Wilson didn’t listen. He was too excited; he’d been noticed.

Over the coming days, Wilson noticed the sneakers didn’t return.

When the rain finally came and washed Wilson away, he thought of the thief’s twinkling eyes and found he was no longer afraid.