This man was wearing a green T-shirt.
If this is not blowing your mind right now, go back and read about my neighborhood semi-nudist.
I drove past two more times that day, staring at the house. Was that the right house? Was I sure? Had I just imagined it? And every time, I came up with the same conclusions.
Yes, that was shirtless guy’s house. And yes, a man wearing a shirt had been outside raking leaves.
I have so many unanswered questions now.
Was that even the same guy? His distinguishing characteristic in my mind has always been his big hairy naked chest. With a T-shirt on…I just can’t be sure. Maybe it was a relative or a friend or a neighbor. Maybe shirtless guy died of pneumonia and a regular, shirt-wearing individual bought his house. I can’t be sure.
If it *was* shirtless guy, what could have happened to make him start going about fully clothed? Did the neighbors complain enough? Did someone leave a basket of T-shirts on his porch? Did his wife wake up one morning and say, “Honey, I am so tired of looking at your grey, hairy belly that if you don’t put a shirt on today I’m out of here?”
Or maybe, just maybe, he suddenly, after all these years, developed sensation in the nerves of his chestal area. Maybe he went outside one morning and said to himself, “Hey, it’s cold out here. I think maybe I’ll put a shirt on today.”
What a novel idea.