From the time he was in high school, he’s only ever owned one pair of shoes. It’s weird, I know. Whether it was 90-degrees outside or 30-degrees, he would be wearing the same pair of boots.

People stared when he would walk down the street in his leather jacket, gloves, boots, and leather pants on a day when everyone should be in tank tops, shorts, and flipflops. He wouldn’t tell anyone where he got the shoes either, fear he’d get arrested if anyone else knew he had crime to acquire the shoes.

The truth was he needed the shoes to hide his hideous-scarred feet, which have been badly damaged from walking barefooted all his life, thanks to his family. When his foster family first witnessed the horror that was his feet, they didn’t know whether to feel horrified or sad. Before anyone could say another word, they shoved a pair of too-small-for-his-feet second-hand sneaker in his arm and told him to put it on. One afternoon, as he limped along the sidewalk, he spotted a pair of boots in the window of a shop. He went into the small shop and when no one was looking, he took the shoes and walked out of the shop as fast as he could and never looked back.

Whatdoyousee