The Shoe Cupboard at One

It was past midnight when Dahyun remembered the brown shoes left in the ground-floor outdoor cupboard to air after polishing. She had worn them twice. When she opened the entrance door, the left shoe stepped out.

The right shoe followed over the ledge. Both were empty. She reached out; they stopped, then sidestepped her fingers. A woman coming downstairs asked, “First time seeing them?”

It was Jeongin, from upstairs. They had exchanged parcels and greetings. She pointed at the little clock above the cupboard: one o’clock. Below, two trainer laces were feeling their way across the floor.

“Empty shoes left here in pairs go out at one and return by five. Put them on, and they’re ordinary shoes.” Jeongin slipped a foot into a moving trainer. It stopped. Once she removed her foot, it followed its partner again.

Dahyun hurried after her shoes in slippers. Jeongin joined her. “My trainers came out too.” Rubber boots waited outside the dark laundrette.

The shoes walked surprisingly well. They raised their toes at low steps and passed through narrow gaps one at a time. Dahyun looked down more often than she ever did while wearing them. When they climbed onto a wet stone, she blurted, “Not there.”

She picked them up and wiped their soles with her sleeve. Jeongin offered a towel from a cloth bag. They shared it beside a crossing while the empty shoes formed a line. There were no cars, but apparently they waited for the signal.

Once Dahyun put them down, the left shoe tapped once and the right twice. They seemed impatient. She turned them toward the building. They stood apart for a moment, then faced the playground together again.

Where children had run during the day, there were only shoes now. The boots went under the slide and out again. Trainers sprinted across the rubber surface. There was no arguing over who had won. Each pair made its own sound.

Beside the swings lay a broad, shallow puddle left by the afternoon rain. One streetlamp trembled inside it. The boots splashed across. Before the ripples had settled, Dahyun’s shoes approached the edge.

Dahyun scooped them into her arms. Their toes pressed alternately against the inside of her elbow. She still had the thin paper from their box. Whenever she put them away, she stuffed it inside to keep their shape.

Jeongin followed her trainers behind the swings. A lace had caught on a dry twig. As Jeongin freed it, Dahyun stood clutching her shoes. Polish from one toe left a brown streak along her arm.

“Is it all right to get this towel dirty?” Dahyun asked. Jeongin held up the wet end in her hand. “I’m not exactly keeping it spotless myself.” Dahyun laughed. Wiping the shoes had already made their hands the same colour.

Dahyun set the shoes on dry rubber beside the puddle. They did not stay there. They lifted their heels and sidestepped back to the edge. She reached to lift them again, then folded the towel instead.

She removed her slippers and left them beside Jeongin’s bag. She put her feet inside the shoes. The leather was cold with night air. Their toes stopped moving. When she raised her right foot, only that shoe rose. Where to go was hers to decide now.

She could walk around the puddle. Instead, she stepped toward the part that looked shallowest. The sole made a sticky sound. Her next step tore the streetlamp’s reflection into a long, muddy strip.

Halfway across, the boots passed beside her. Water dotted her trouser cuffs. She rolled them up. Her toes gripped, creasing the new leather. This time she walked the rest of the way without carrying the shoes.

Jeongin waited on the other side with the towel and slippers. Dahyun took off her shoes and set them down. They rocked as though shaking off water, then went toward the trainers. A small lump of mud clung to the right heel.

They sat on a bench. Dahyun curled and stretched her toes. Jeongin checked the laces she had retied. When the brown shoes headed toward the water again, Dahyun started to get up, then leaned against the back of the bench.

The shoes circled the playground several more times. Dahyun searched for a clean part of the towel and gave up. Jeongin bought two bottles of water. Dahyun held hers against her wrist and felt the cold.

After four, the shoes began leaving the playground. Even the trainers that had sprinted on the way out went slowly now. Dahyun’s shoes stumbled at a gap in the paving. She slowed beside them without reaching down.

The clock showed five as the last pair of boots entered the cupboard. The brown shoes stood together on their original shelf. Dahyun touched a toe. Nothing moved. Jeongin took the towel and tucked it into her cloth bag.

In the morning, Dahyun cleaned the shoes. The mud came off, but the creases across the insteps remained. They had not been there after two outings. She smoothed the thin stuffing paper flat and set the shoes on it to finish drying.

Dahyun wore the brown shoes to buy groceries. The downstairs clock showed eleven ten. Her feet moved only as she moved them. There was a small patch of water outside the entrance. She paused before it as usual, then took a step straight through.