Look the Part

by Jewel E. Ann

Flint Hopkins wears the hell out of a three-piece suit. Not a single wrinkle. Not a hair out of place. Not a scuff mark on his shiny shoes. His lips move, but all I hear is “I wore this suit for you today” as his hands make their rounds: caressing the buttons on his jacket, twisting his cufflinks, and adjusting his tie. It’s sophisticated fidgeting.

No one on their deathbed says, “Remember how incredible it felt to make wise decisions?”