I was at a clients home the other day when I came upon a door I had not noticed before. How could I have not noticed a door considering I have been to this home every other week for a long time. I did consider it might go to a third floor attic room because this house is probably over a hundred years old at least. Yet I figured after I opened the door with all good intentions I would find merely the small duty of straightening out shoes and or boxes. Notsomuch! What I found was old unfinished stairs leading to a large empty floor space that resembled a blown up version of the inside of a covered wagon from a century past. As I was half way up the old creaky steps I saw it. The abandoned lifeless shoe. Laces tattered, the leather worn through in places. It was similar to when I used to shop for vintage jewelry, especially lockets, in my making of collage pieces. The lockets always stopped me "dead!" I would always have to split the locket into two parts to be able to use them in my work. This was not an easy thing for me to do considering there would always be a photo of a man on one side and a woman on the other from a "passed" time. I was blessed with one of the remains of their lives together and I was in the process of dismissing that fact by splitting them, the locket apart. So here I was again, in a vast cavern of old musty wood and one leather shoe that once belonged to who? I am a natural detective therefore if there is no concrete answer I have to come to one or my mind wont leave me without finality on the subject. Who was the woman who wore the shoe? Considering the ornate style of this three story home, now reduced to two apartments on each level, and looking at the age of it, I suspect whoever wore those shoes was a lady of substantial means. But then again, it could have been the housekeeper's shoes who was having an affair with the man of the manor and lost it (Cinderella) while escaping just in time before the Mrs. returned from her daily social tea. Yup that's the story. Oh, I was going to continue up the steps to look for any other leavings when I saw several large but little turds. That is when the smell of the word RAT came into my mind and senses and that is when I exited backwards down the old gray stairway and back to reality. I love my little journeys!