Jan 8, 2022
My tight shirt was making me crazy with anger. I could not get out of my head the idea that I was supposed to be wearing something looser, something more comfortable and appropriate. I strolled into shops and made such displays of discomfort, that all of the cashiers could not help but stop and stare at me as I squirmed and grumbled loudly. Most cashiers had no choice but to kick me out.
The streets were no better, for here was where people were walking in a hurry. They were busy and had no time for a man with a tight shirt. They pushed and shoved and gave me cruel glares. I was bullied and beaten and by sunset I was limping and in tatters. My shirt hung from me like the sail of a ship after a devastating storm. I was the spitting image of modern failure. I lumbered home, tore off my clothes, and lay face down on the floor for the rest of the evening.