"It was graduation, and I had already
said goodbye to so many people.
Everyone else had plans and family to attend to,
so we were alone.
It was supposed to be a proud moment, but my thing, my life
had ruined it.
At the time, I owned a small collection
of oxfords, undoubtedly masculine.
Before she came, I hid them in a bag
that I didn't move to my new apartment,
because I knew she would find them there.
For two days, I wore shoes with no arch support.
On the third day, I wore my brown oxfords
to be comfortable.
No one looks at anyone's shoes.
For the rest of the day, we were at the museum,
and all she could talk about was my shoes.
At the foldable table in my new apartment,
she asked me if I was gay, which I told her 10 years ago,
but she didn't believe me.
She asked me if I was gay, and I didn't say anything,
but I cried.
She threw away the shoes, and then we had dinner.
When I did the dishes, I had to empty the rice onto my shoes,
and I never saw them again."