You wore those out. You know that, right? Not lost them, not replaced them on a whim. You wore them down to nothing, and one day you looked at the split along the left toe and the heel gone soft and you finally let them go.
Look at them now, by the door where you kicked them off. The laces still tied, because you never untie them, you just shove your foot in and drag the back down flat, which is terrible for the shoe and I would never tell you to stop. The right one always ends up a little farther from the wall than the left. It still does that. I checked, from here.
You think of them as the shoes that need replacing. Too worn for anything nice. You are a little embarrassed by them, honestly.
But they carried you to the places you were not brave enough to name yet. They stood at the door you were scared to knock on. They know the exact weight of you on an ordinary Tuesday, which is a thing almost nothing will ever know.
Wear them one more day before you buy the new ones. Take the long way home in them.
Let them do the one thing they were made for a little longer.