Retrieved from the closet once more, another problem I must stabilize. Bones creak and muscles moan with pain, each step more taxing than the last. I am carefully slipped on, hugging the heel and ball, attempting to bring some — if any — relief. My boning has already stretched far past its limits, my shape slowly distorting. I still hear groans and grunts echoing — problems which I cannot resolve. Yet I still hold on, for that is my essence. My purpose. To piece together a shattered puzzle, a puzzle the manufacturer would not be able to fix. I hold my complaints, just as I hold this ankle. Soon I will be discarded again, returned to the depths of the closet, only to be needed once more in a few months.