He considered the first time he wore them. They were stiff. Black. His high school prom. Nervous, dripping. Later, he sees her in K-Mart. She’s fat, really fat. Has three kids, like ducks following her. Noisy ducks.
He considered the next time he wore them. They were old. Black. His wedding, cheap fix. Proud, gleeful. Later, he divorces her in Richmond. He’s happy, really happy. Runs out of the courthouse, chest bursting. So content.
He considered the last time he wore them. They were broken. Black. His young son’s funeral. Drowning, lost. Later he scattered the ashes all over. So sad, really sad. Can’t go on any longer, sits down. Misses him.
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