Dead Mans Shoes

Harry has lived with us the entire eight years. We did not know that agreeing to keep his shoes here was a big deal. One day my husband said “I am throwing these oud!” “We promised his widow!” I shrieked. It was her one requirement when she sold us this house. The next week was a nightmare. I got carjacked. My husband lost his job. One of our dogs got hit by a truck. “It was those shoes!” I told my husband. “Get them back!” We tried, but they were long gone. Every week got worse and worse. We separated, eventually divorced. I remarried, and we tried to buy a house. “That was Charlie’s hat,” the seller told us. “Leave it in the closet, or….” I ran out screaming.