Negative space
Next to me? A man. Mid-thirties, droopy posture, possibly finance-adjacent, maybe a “Michael.” He’s holding a black reversible belt. Reversible. Two colors. Utility over aesthetics. The fucking shame of it.
Next to me? A man. Mid-thirties, droopy posture, possibly finance-adjacent, maybe a “Michael.” He’s holding a black reversible belt. Reversible. Two colors. Utility over aesthetics. The fucking shame of it.