Next Up in August (Patreon)

But Aardvark, you say! You posted a story ten minutes ago! This is madness! And you'd be right. But some ideas have really been keeping me up, so I've been writing like a madman. This particular one should be up very soon. What I'm trying to say is.....please don't unsubscribe? :)

--------

In a cramped office in New York, a designer sat at his desk sketching out the details of a shirt. He had been tasked with creating a piece of clothing that could be mass produced without losing quality. His mind was filled with images of how the shirt would move and feel when worn, how the fabric would highlight the curves of the male body.

The designer worked diligently, an artist pouring his soul into his creation, and within a few short hours the shirt was complete. He looked at it with a satisfied expression, admiring the intricate stitching and shape he had created.

The shirt was meant to be a simple item, something that would be replicated thousands of times but still retain its individual character. As he looked at the finished product, the designer felt a swell of pride in his work. He knew that this shirt would travel far, that it would be bought and worn by men all over the world.

And with this thought, the dress shirt's journey began.

It traveled through the factory in pieces that were then sewn together; through the hands of Inspector #17, who placed her sticker on the inside; across the country in a box; into a department store on a shelf, where its small size made it a tough sell…

…and finally to a suburban TJ Maxx, where it was picked up and purchased by Alex Clairborne, who needed a white collared shirt to wear under his letterman jacket on game days. His buddies, Hayden and Liam, got matching ones for their own needs: lavender for Hayden to wear to church, blue for Liam’s upcoming job interview.

They spent the rest of the afternoon basking in the sights and sounds of a sunny Saturday. A trip to the mini-golf course was money and time well spent, because Willa Strawdeman and her posse were there too. At the sight of them, all three boys stood up straight and tried to look as broad as possible, hoping to catch their attention.

“Do you think I have a shot with Willa?” Hayden whispered to Alex, out of sight of the girls.

Alex hesitated. He’d once played football with Brock Friedman, the last guy Willa went out with. Brock was tall and dashing, his physique sculpted from two-a-day workouts; he was a tight end in college now. If that was Willa’s type, Hayden didn’t fit the mold. He was skinny in the way only a teenage boy can be, with shaggy hair and a slouchy gait that made him look like a zombie rock star, arms swinging to and fro behind him as he walked.

But Alex didn't want to crush his friend's dreams, so he shrugged and said, "You never know, man. She might be into artistic types like you."

Hayden grinned, looking a little more confident as he putted.

A movie at the theater was next, followed by ice cream cones while walking along the harbor—truly living it up with their newfound freedoms. Along the way, they talked about what lay ahead for them: college applications, dream jobs, relationships…the possibilities were endless. It wasn’t until they got in Alex’s car to head home that Hayden noticed the brand of shirts they’d bought. “Dapper Daddy?”