Balancing precariously upon a shabby, shadowy cart, a black, threadbare shoe gradually decays in its lonely surroundings. Its aging aglets cracking, two limp, untied shoelaces aimlessly dangle along a crumbling wall of moldered fabric. A pathetic, tattered tongue, twisting and bending, sags weakly and slowly ages. This shoe’s faded pleather lays untouched under a constantly growing layer of lightly-colored grime. Near the worn sole, the extremely severed rubber reveals a monstrous, stretching crevasse. Dusty, blackened plastic barely manages to cling onto the top of the sole, forming once-graceful, yet now peeling designs. Zigzagging treads, exhausted with overuse, crumble lethargically, evenly spaced among the sole of the shoe. Long, jagged rips span across the exterior.
The fatigued, weary interior, however, with its ragged shoelace holes, splitting and snapping stitches, and frayed edges, deteriorates just like the outside. Feeble, drooping tags, attached to the tongue, flop miserably, their small, printed words illegible. Disintegrating foam bursts eagerly out of its useless, overcrowded lining. Unrelenting, persisting lint stubbornly holds onto the sneaker’s fabric. Faint, musty smells rise from this dirty Reebokä shoe and nauseatingly pervade the air. Withered and rotted, this filthy piece of footwear apprehensively waits for its cataclysmic, catastrophic, and disastrous end.