Let me tell you about a pair of shoes.

It wasn't just any ol' pair of shoes, it was a pair of sneakers.

It wasn't just any ol' pair of sneakers, it was a pair of sleek, generously-padded, black Reebok Classics.

So, as you can see, that pair of Reeboks was held in high esteem. It was revelled, it was admired. It was everything. It was something that some people would die for. Or pay four hundred bucks for.

I was one of those people.

... who forked out four big ones, mind u. Not died.

So off it went, to its new home, away from the cool, air-conditioned shelves of Reebok 1 utama to the warm and stuffy, yet homey home of number 71 Tmn SEA.

Despite its status, Black Reeboks proved to be a dilligent worker. No putting on airs and all that nonsense. It toiled and served everyday, protecting the not-so-dainty feet of its new owner. It lived up to its reputation and never failed to keep harm at bay, be it a hard-thumping game of badminton, a ferocious, slippery puddle, or even a rusty upturned nail.

It served well into its fourth year, when it met its nemesis... CONFERENCE HALL.

Almost everyday, Black Reeboks was subjected to repeated abrasions thanks to the chairs of Conference Hall. Black Reeboks held out well, but not well enough. Soon, the signs of literal wear and tear began to show...

By the end of Year Four, Black Reeboks had developed a huge, gaping hole in its left and signs of one more was beginning to show in its right. Ignorantly, its owner thought it "funky" and took pride in wiggling her big toe for the world to see. Loyal right to its death, it fought on for a good year before finally admitting defeat and making way for a younger, trendier, navy-blue Reebok from the Common Folk. Sensing the workaholic in Black Reeboks, the sympathetic owner allowed it to serve in the much slower-paced, bum-around-all-day Domestic Department instead of banishing it to a quiet retirement which would have proven to be a torturous end.

Black Reeboks was now a treadmill official.

And what an official it made. However, while its dedication proved endless, its body simply could not keep up. Barely after its sixth year of exceptional service, it started to fall apart.

Old and weary but still with a mind as sharp as ever, it had a sense of foreboding one day when its owner wore it into the oh-so-nostalgic Reebok outlet on one of its occasional walks. She always brought Black Reeboks when recruiting fresh fabric, deeming its uncanny sense of judgement priceless, but Black Reeboks was never replaced as nothing could match up to its quality, its hardiness. Nevertheless, there was a sense of finality in this one, and it proved true when its owner gestured towards it and asked the unfamiliar salesgirl if they would accept a trade-in. It's pride crumbled to the ground and to the hells below as the hyena-like laugh of the damned salesgirl resounded in its eglets. Black Reeboks always took pride in its appearance, to the point of being vain.

Crushed, Black Reeboks immersed itself in its work, as the pieces fell and it turned greyer by the day... Soon, it forgot about the humiliating incident and was happily awaiting the call of duty one day when its owner brought back what was supposed to be the new treadmill official. It was not just a humiliation, it was a downright insult! The new pair of sneakers was of the Reebok clan, no doubt, but it was skinny and pale and a little green and nowhere as dashing as Black Reeboks was in its heyday. It wasn't sleek like Black Reeboks was, and it didn't have the charm of youthful foolhardiness that Black Reeboks' warrior replacement, Navy-Blue Reeboks had.

The most painful blow was that it was of peasant stock (peasant. not pheasant. push ur Maggi chicken stock out of mind and stick to the story). Like, less than a hundred fifty bucks?! It was an abomination!

Reluctantly, Black Reeboks taught Peasant Reeboks the tools of the trade in treadmill duty and found it actually to be quite the charmer, albeit a slow-learner and being unacceptably poorly-padded. Between these training sessions, Black Reeboks finally eased into retirement, and was worn out for a week one last time and to relive old memories. It revisited various establishments, and it revisited Conference Hall. They were both overwhelmed with nostalgia and made peace. A friendship was formed, with Black Reeboks acknowledging its battling inferiority and still having the scars and holes to show for it.

It was a week of bliss for Black Reeboks and that week ends with the ending of today. So, as I lay it to rest one final time in the box that it first came in, let us celebrate the integrity and willingness of Black Reeboks in its extraordinary duration of exemplary service. Let us remember that it was just one pair of sneakers that could carry out the duties of two pairs of sneakers, in a way which no other pairs of sneakers, no matter how many or how well-acclaimed, could ever live up to.

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I'LL MISS YOU, BLACK REEBOKS! I REALLY WILL!!! *sniff*

p.s. I woulda put up a pic if I could, but I can't.