It's overcast, windy and spitting

The only bright spot in the day is the pair of red and white high-top runners hanging from the power line in front of the neighbour's house. Size 12 at least. They've been hanging there for six months, maybe more, and show no signs of wear. Perhaps they're an offering to the god of basketball. Volleyball. The god of ugly shoes. They've been twirling all day. Around and around as if lost in thought. Laces knotted. Not rotten, but getting there. Certainly twisted.