“It’s okay. We can fix them.”
So I did.
I wrapped the shoes as carefully and neatly as I could. I even drew little patterns over the tape with a marker, trying to make them look less obvious.
That morning, I watched Andrew walk out the door wearing those patched-up sneakers, telling myself that maybe the other kids wouldn’t notice.
I was wrong.
That afternoon, Andrew came home quieter than usual.
He didn’t say a word. He walked right past me and went straight to his room.
I gave him a minute, thinking maybe he just needed some space.
