Heir to the Unchosen Hour Shirt Size:L Her top flutters like a

Her top flutters like a thought she was never allowed to finish — red chiffon

But the top —

The dress used to mean something: a dinner

But these days

He is a somnambulist in disguise —

Heir to the Unchosen Hour Shirt Size:L Her top flutters like aHe walks like hes late to a life he never chose. The crochet clings like memory heiry in places. It was handmade, like most of his charm. Looped together with good intentions and generational guilt. He is a somnambulist in disguise alert, articulate, but not entirely awake. He answers questions with questions. Smiles like punctuation. The shirt looks awake, but he does not. Its hue? Something between faded envy and steeped solitude. Like moss pressed