I have a SHOE story to tell

It was a very fine Monday morning.

I woke up early.

I went jogging.

I ate my sumptuous breakfast.

A perfect start to a fantabulous week (despite the loads and loads and loads of work).

I took a bath.

Dressed up.

It was just right until I noticed something wrong with my favorite pair of shoes.

The sole's ripping off.

What a Monday, I thought.

Confident as I am, I went out of the house clutching with me my daily professional needs, wearing my ripping-off shoes.

I went from one store to another to find a temporary remedy, rugby.

Unfortunately, no one sells even a drop of it.

I was losing hope.

Suddenly, seemingly a gift from the heavens, a blessing from above, it was as if God saw my suffering, a shoe repairman seated on one corner of our street with his paraphernalia.

I hurried towards him.

Had my shoes repaired.

And out of nowhere I asked, "Madalas po ba kayo dito manong?"

He answered, "Ngayon lang, napadaan lang,"

I replied, "Hulog ka ng langit,"

"Done," he said.

With a smile on my face, I flew off.

I then thought, it's 10:30am, "You're late, Cyprus! RUN!"