Shamble

That they didn’t pick up their feet when they walked irritated him no end. Their shoes dragged everywhere and grew grey dust blooms. He had shouted at them time and time again to remedy it but the days pushed on and the scrapes and scars on their soles only grew.

Content to pull them across the floor like cans of newlywed’s car, he saw to it that they cared for them. He wove baskets to carry their feet but they were not appreciated. It was a hindrance to carry them and use their crutches, but he insisted. Or he would make it so that they had even more to look after. He only ever warned his children once.

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