Shoes
My bare feet slap against the cold asphalt. The streets are lined with slowly melting snow, turned brown by the passing cars. Mom says we can't afford shoes anymore. I don't really know what a depression is, but the way my parents keep talking about it, it must be bad. Dad hasn't been to work in weeks and mom has been sewing a lot more clothes in our small living room lately. My stomach feels hollow, I can't remember the last time we had a full dinner.
I'm supposed to be picking up my younger sister from school, but the trip is almost unbearable. I rub my cold hands up and down my arms, trying to warm the uncovered pale skin. What I would give for a,wool coat, or even an extra shirt right now. The small school house comes into my vision in the distance and I immediately start to run. It feels like my ice cold skin will surely crack against the frozen road.
