It waited, alone, in the dark. It could still remember the happy times, tucked neatly with its owner’s dress shirt to every formal event, every work day, weddings as far as it could remember. But something had changed. It hadn’t been taken out in ages. Instead it had watched forlornly as an endless series of polo shirts marched away in its place.

Then a day came for a funeral, and its owner decided that he really did need to dress up for this one. He reached deep into his closet, fumbling about. “Where is that…stupid…” he muttered.

The last thing he saw was a flying blur of enraged fabric.

There would be two funerals that week.

(this was inspired by an article I read about how ties are going out of fashion. I approve, but couldn’t help wondering how the ties feel about it. Happy Macabre Monday, everybody!)