21 April 2012
I didn’t recognize the street this morning, or was it perhaps late in the afternoon? People passed me, eyes on the pavement and avoiding contact. Even the cars seemed to drive as far from the sidewalk as they could.
I walked a block towards my work, or at least I think it is in this direction. Something feels awfully off today. Or is it night? Now I’m uncertain and so are you.
My clothes aren’t my own, I have never seen this suit in my life yet it fits me perfectly. I’m wearing a hat, and my shoes are too small.
A man in a suit walks up to me, meeting my surely puzzled gaze. He has an old briefcase and a hat that belongs in another lifetime. His suit is blue, and so is mine it seems.
"Excuse me Sir", says I as the man approaches. He stops in front of me, tilts his head slightly and gives me a look that enquiries what I want. His gaze makes me sweat.
"Yes?" the man asks at length.
"I have a question for you, if you’d indulge me?"
"Was that your question, because if it was then I seem to have indulged you already, without the option not to. In which case I find you to be a remarkably rude man."
I taste sweat on my lips. I’m wearing old navy blue slacks and a shirt with the memory of a stain in front.
"No, that was not the question."
"Then you may ask your question," says the man in the blue suit.
As we’re talking people pass by in a haze, all avoiding us. I think it is noon and my shorts and t-shirt isn’t keeping me as warm as I would like.
I ask my question. "Are you a blue man?"
"You are," says the man, and puts on a cap that matches his shorts and t-shirt.
I adjust my tie, nod to the man, and walk to work, briefcase in hand. How I hate my blue suit.
The Blue Man • Opuss № I