Morphine Ghost

I measured my feet three times because I thought I was losing my mind. Same size they've always been. I even bought a new pair, one size larger, and they felt perfect in the store. By the time I got home they were crushing my toes again. Mother told me my feet haven't changed. She said the house has been "adjusting" me while I sleep, little by little, until I'll fit where I'm supposed to. She laughed when I asked what that meant. Then she told me not to waste money on shoes until the house finishes deciding.

I'm walking barefoot now. The floorboards feel warmer every day, almost soft, like they're learning the shape of my feet faster than the shoes can. Yesterday I found all three pairs lined up outside my bedroom door. I'd left them in the closet. Mother insists she didn't move them, but she did tell me not to leave them unattended because "they wander when they get hungry." I know how ridiculous that sounds. I also know one of them had mud on the sole this morning, and I haven't been outside in six days.