I have this other shirt, from Abercrombie and Fitch, which I got when I used to work there, when I was eighteen.  I didn’t even like the shirt at first. It has a big graphic on the front which says, “Friend with Privileges”, which I thought was clever for the situation I was in at the time, because this girl I used to make out with, a lot, worked next door, at the Abercrombie and Fitch kid’s store: she being the reason I applied to get the job there in the first place; her always coming over to my house, which was the house of my parents, so that we could turn on a movie downstairs and make out on the ‘cuddle sack,’ while my parents are upstairs watching a show of their own.

The shirt is getting holes all through it. Musette saw it today and said, “I think it’s time this one go in the treasure chest as well.”

It’s such a comfortable shirt. That’s why I still wear it. It looks very ratty. But it provides me with a sense of peace.

I have never had to retire so many articles of clothing at the same time.

There is a definite cleanse taking place.

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