Still Dirty

It was over by the kitchen top. Withered beyond sight. Blackened to the root like a tar-infested smoker’s lung.

I came back from work today at 8 PM, like every other day. It was at the exact spot where I had left it yesterday.

Just like every other day, I took off my industrial shoes. Just like every other day, they were covered in dirt and grime from the day’s toil.

And just like every other day for the past fifteen years, the first thing I did after taking off my shoes was pick it up from the kitchen top.

When I first got it home, my shoes were left spotless after I wiped them. As the years passed, it withered and withered.

Now, when I wiped my shoes, they became dirtier than they were before. I had to spend an extra dime at the shoeshine the next day. But I didn’t throw it away. I kept it at the same spot on the kitchen top.

My wife pestered me for a few years about it. She told me to throw it away and buy a new one. She threw it away a few times. She replaced it with a newer one.

But every day when I returned at 8 PM, it was at the exact spot where I had left it the day before.

“It’s causing you more harm than good. Why are you so stubborn?” she used to say.

Now she didn’t say much. She just kept to herself. To her, it didn’t exist anymore.

It was now a fragment of what it used to be. It had slowly rotted over the years, but it was still there.

I used it and put it back in the same place. Then I got on with my dinner and slept.

The night passed, and the sun, punctual as always, arrived.

And my loving wife made sure to open the curtains on me while I was deep in my slumber.

And just like every other day, I got on with my morning chores and left the house.

On the way to the factory, I stopped at the shoeshines, and my heart dropped. They were packing up and leaving.

“I can’t make a living off this anymore. They have those automatic cleaners nowadays. It’s the end of the road for us” the shoeshine told me.

Those automatic cleaners had been around for a while, but I never once used them.

I pondered what I would do now without the shoeshines. But my shift at the factory was getting late. I hurried away to the factory and reluctantly used the automatic cleaner.

Every time the brush swirled, it felt like I was being stung by a thousand needles. Every speck of dust that was blown off my shoe felt like I was breaking apart. A minute of cleaning later, my soul was crushed.

I had to sit down by the factory entrance to recover from that.

“What’s up with your lazy ass today? The parts don’t make themselves! Get moving.” it was the line manager.

After that, my day went on like all the others. I thought my work would be affected, but there wasn’t much difference. The day went on, and my shift ended.

As I left the factory, I glanced at the automatic shoe-shine machine. That wretched thing. I wanted to break it and burn it down.

I wanted to break all of its kind that existed in this world.

But what was the point? If I broke them, someone in another factory would make them again. More money for the scoundrel who designed them.

I thought about what I could do against the automatic cleaners. That was when the thought struck me as I exited the factory.

What if I lobbied against them and turned my co-workers against the automatic cleaners?

All I had to tell them was that they took the shoeshine’s job today and would take ours tomorrow. It was that easy.

I was unsure whether that would bring the shoeshines back. But I didn’t have much of an option.

When I returned home, I saw my wife sitting by the couch, mechanical as always.

I walked to the kitchen top first and saw that it was still in the same spot where I had left it yesterday. She didn’t so much as glance at me. This was my daily routine, after all.

I picked it up as I usually did and threw it out of the window.

You should have seen the look on her face. It was like the day we first met.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get on with it...” she said. She seemed to have been waiting ages for this.

The morning of the next day, she didn’t open the curtains on me. I woke up fresher than before. As I finished my morning chores, she was grinning by the kitchen top, ready with a breakfast spread.

After a sumptuous meal, I left the house.

The first thing I did as I walked out was go outside the kitchen window and pick it up.

It was still dirty as always. Just the way I preferred it. I put it into my pocket and left.

Work was different that day. The union was always looking for reasons to strike, and they found one. Any reason against machines was enough to rile them up.

A week passed, and all the factories around my place removed their automatic shoe cleaners.

The shoeshines were back in the places where they usually set up shop. Everything seemed normal except that I couldn’t take it back to the kitchen after everything that had happened.

I hated changing my routine now that I had fought to get the shoeshines back in business.

My wife thought I was a changed man. She thought that because I had thrown it out of the kitchen, I had been able to become the union leader.

She was partially right, though.

This was one last obstacle that I wasn’t able to clear. It had been in my pocket since I picked it up from outside, through the union strikes and all of that drama.

I finally took it out of my pocket.

It was clean, like the day I first bought it.