Clive sat on a bench looking out to sea. His eyes stung a little from the sun cream that his sweat had carried into them. He also wasn't quite used to seeing the full brightness of day, having broken his glasses a fortnight before, and he couldn't afford UV-reactive lenses in his replacement pair.
He looked down at himself. He shuffled backwards in his seat, made a token effort to sit up straight.
Last year he strutted his stuff up and down the promenade, proud to let it all hang out. But not since...
Well. Not since. Not after.
He had always wondered what possible reason any man could have for buying a string vest. Now, at least, he had his own reason. He could cover up, without it quite covering him up. Not completely, anyway.
It felt positive. It felt like a step in the right direction.
Link of the Day: Knock Knock
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