I saw a shoe today—
just one,
left on the roadside
like it had been in a hurry
and forgot itself.
It wasn’t broken,
just alone.
Facing no one,
but pointing somewhere—
as if it still remembered
where it was meant to go.
I didn’t touch it,
but it touched something in me.
Like a question left unanswered,
or a goodbye that never reached the door.
Who leaves behind only one shoe?
Someone running,
or someone carried away too quickly
to look down.
The dust had settled,
but I stood still,
wondering how many people
keep walking
with half of themselves missing.
And if even a shoe
can be this forgotten,
what happens
to the parts of us
we leave behind to survive?
by Suraj Godiyal
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