I've worn a hole in the sole of my shoe. This is news? you might ask. It is. I like to wear holes in my sweaters before the moths get to them, wear shirts until the collars are threadbare, reduce my scarves to shreds, rub buttons down to nubs, wear silver off the plate, gold off the rims, break shoelaces, burst hat brims, walk the finish off the floors, leave grooves in the cabinet doors. The kettle is battered, the threshold dips. Evidence: I was here. There's not a drop left in the bottle.