sharkgirl1973

not on their feet and therefore didn’t need to have their shoes repaired. Roberto turned the corner at Fourteenth Street and made his way through the old rusty gate that lead to the door of his apartment building. Shoving his gloved hand into the pocket of his tattered winter coat, the cobbler fumbled for his keys. "Damn Keys," he grumbled in annoyance, a stream of moisture rushing from his lips to form a small white cloud in the cold dry air. "Ah, there," he said and proceeded to the inner corridor. The old man looked at the long flight of stairs that led to his third floor apartment with dreaded anticipation. The idea of having to endure the hard climb to his apartment made his muscles feel limp and his old bones jelly, but the thought of his wife Anna