of tears. Surely some emotion was having its way with him, though
he knew not why or what it might be. This flattered and even
pleased him, leading him to think that his life was the envelope
around an even greater life deep within him, which added a spark
of color to an hour's lusterless unfolding. These moments of
strong emotion: it was as if he were the servant of a gentleman of
distinction, who at times crept to his master's wardrobe and
draped himself with a silk jacket or scarf, which he paraded back
and forth before his master's mirror. How he would strut for a
minute or two, all the while listening for a step in the hall, as he
raised an eyebrow and smirked and bowed—such was his claim to
a few bright threads of borrowed splendor.
(This one's for the Knot)
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