
I love these boots. The level of wanting rivals that of the frustration of waking up alone and dissatisfied. I hate to fight. I hate to fight before I even brushed my teeth. Take a deep breath walk away, I think in my head. And in the ten feet it takes me to walk to get over the conversation, more than wanting to be held by him or any kind of affectionate embrace, I want to be held by these boots. Real happiness, it's a swipe of the Amex away. Love will come and go, the relationship you have with your footwear can last a life time, to the grave, IN the grave.