That photo of me, I found today. I hadn’t seen it for years. I remember why I smiled, I remember the shirt, the day I bought it, and why. I thought it suited me. So did she. That’s why she took the picture.
“Try it on,” she said, almost begged, as she held it against her and looked at me in a special kind of way.
We laughed that day, hugged. Felt this feeling would never end.
Now the shirt has gone, vanished, faded somehow with time. Just like she did, and my smile. At least ones that felt that genuine. Unforced. Effortless. Real.
She said the shirt suited me. I believed her. That day, I wore more than cotton— I wore the feeling that I was enough.
© Rob Spencer, 2025. All rights reserved.
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