My Grandfather Moises
Moises wore his first pair of shoes at eighteen. They were brown leather, hand-me-downs from his uncle. He lived with aunt and uncle in a worn-down shack by the ocean. The walls were rickety and threatened to fall down at any moment. The air was heavy and pungent. It smelled like fish and salt. The weather was mostly dismal, cloudy and cold.
Moises did not enjoy living with his aunt and uncle but he had little choice. Two of his sisters had already died of hunger. His uncle was unkind to him. When he was drunk he yelled at Moises. In the evening he yelled at Moises for not selling enough newspapers. In the morning he yelled at Moises for being too loud. But Moises was being fed and that was enough.
Moises turned the shoes over in his hands. The holes were numerous. The original finish was long gone.
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