"Damn... fucking... tie…!"
Sixth time, sixth try. The man in the mirror was not a happy man, in fact, he looked anything but. Yet he wasn't always like this, not too long ago in fact, he was as normal as normal would get.
Then he had just to scour his wardrobe for that damned suit vest, just had to read that accursed text to quote, unquote, "dress his best". You see what fashion does to a countryman? The repercussions of grandeur?
It unravels him, undoes him - to the point of madness. Ties? Why ties? Why are they so easy to get wrong, yet so hard to get right? Why does the big part have to always be longer than the thin part? It's still being worn, isn't it? Why can't I just wear it as is? Better yet, how about I tie a few more loops around, make a noose? I think I'd have a much better time and better odds of succeeding too.
Next chapter is something I'm kinda apprehensive about. I gotta make it as perfect as possible.