“Why the white outfit?” he asks, pointing his chin at the suit I’m wearing. My eyes look down, scanning my outfit with a shrug. “Esmeray chose it for me this morning.” “Did she?” he asks, a pleased smile on his lips. “Yeah, she said I wear too many dark suits and it makes me look like a, and I quote, ‘gloomy, grumpy man.’” I leave the part out where she gestured with her hands as if she were part of a sketch at the theatre. My dad laughs. “She was right.”
