The red boots, once shiny and vibrant, were almost completely grey now. They had lost their lustre, and anyone looking at them would have taken them for rather old, much-worn footwear, not worth a second glance.

Their owner knew better. Lovingly, he put the boots on one last time. There was barely enough to bring him home, and even that only if his luck held out. He laced them up with great care, tying the laces in elaborate butterfly knots that seemed never to end or begin, but twirled and looped evermore.

This task completed, he sat back with a sigh and relaxed, letting his arms and legs go limp. In his mind's eye, he saw clearly his home, the dark windows set in beige stucco walls, and the red roof. With an effort, he focused the image until the edge were razor sharp, and somewhere in the depths of his mind, he twisted, and the world shifted around him.

The wind blew crisp gold leaves through the air. Some of them scraped across a bench, where a few moments before there had been a man.

A man and a pair of boots.

********

So today we met our core med tutor. She's excellent. One chapter of Harry's every 30 minutes! And 200 pages by the end of the week. Of HARRISON's.

I guess they were right when they said that it'd get busy quickly. This is faster than I was expecting, though.

Off to my anaemia, jaundice and puo!

written at 8:29 p.m.