She used to hide spare keys in her old winter shoes at the back of the dark closet floor.

I got up and went to the bedroom closet, sliding the heavy bifold door back along its metal track.

On the bottom wooden shelf, tucked into the dark corner, were three pairs of Mama’s old dress shoes.

I bent down and lifted the left shoe of her stiff black pumps.

The leather was cold and dry under my fingers and smelled faintly of old shoe polish.

I turned the shoe over above my lap, but nothing dropped onto the floor.