A Literary Journal For
Aspring Young Writers

Change

The new dress shirt sits politely in the darkness of my dresser. Waiting patiently. The crisp navy stripes a glimpse of night against the light material and pearly, delicate buttons.

From the pile at the edge of my room, I rummage like a raccoon in a sea of junk. There they are. My navy trousers, scattered with scuff marks and specks of paint. I pull them comfortably onto my hips.

One, two, three, four. A mangled bow tied over my ankle replaces the far, far too long laces. The footholes of the pants droop over the exhausted and dusty but once shining face of my docs.

Finally, I remove the new blouse from my drawers. I fumble with the pearly buttons, trying not to pull them from the dainty thread holding them onto the blouse. One, two, three, four, five, six. The mirror bounces at me. Shirt gleaming as though it were a snooty aristocrat, above all the other rag-tag present. I look up to the unfamiliar stone-faced expression staring into my eyes. “You’ve changed.”

Are you sure?