“They’re yours,” I said.

“Paid for in full.”

Daisy came running around the side of the house holding her wire picking basket, stopping beside my worn work boots to press her thumb into the soft foam ankle collar.

“They smell brand new, Ben,” she said.

Ben laced them up slowly, pulling the white laces tight and tying a neat double knot over the blue padded tongue.

He stood up on the top step and bounced twice, testing the rubber grip against the wooden porch boards.