Orange

The only color he ever wore was orange. It suited him. Every outfit he owned was orange, and he couldn’t imagine ever wearing anything else. Blue jeans were for other people. So were khaki shorts and navy blue tank tops. Garments of those other colors meant nothing to him; he was all about the orange.

He tried to remember the last time he had worn something different. It had been years, he knew, although he was unsure of how many. He distinctly remembered getting rid of his entire wardrobe one day, and replacing it with the orange that now dominated his current attire choices.

Some of his clothes were becoming faded with use. Although he tried to wear all of his outfits regularly, the infrequency with which he did laundry sometimes necessitated his wearing the same outfit more than one day in a row.

More than anything, he wondered what it would be like to wear other colors again. He liked those thoughts, imagining what he might look like in a blue pinstripe dress shirt... or a pair of charcoal gray slacks.

Someday, he would get to wear those clothes. But for today, he’d have to settle for the same prison-issue orange jumpsuit that he wore everyday.


(207 words)