Over in a flash

Old and fat, Sam felt old and fat and he decided that he didn't want to any more or, at least, that he didn't want to today. From the cupboard, he took his best suit, only worn three times; a wedding, a funeral and an awkward date. He stood, hands on his hips, watching the iron until a thin plume of steam told him it was ready.

He gave the whole suit, jacket and trousers, a rough once over before getting down to the detail. He hunted wrinkles and chased them out with the boiling, pointed tip, like St Patrick banishing the snakes. He took the same care with a beautiful French shirt, laying a handkerchief over the collar so as not to damage the subtle, embroidered, floral motif. He thought back to when he had bought it; a spring day, five years ago.

He had scuttled into a tiny boutique in the Marais district of Paris, avoiding a brief downpour that had interrupted a glorious bath of sunshine. He had looked back out of the window for a minute to watch the panic of the other passers-by. Beautiful, young gay men had pranced around the forming puddles and clutched each other into doorways. Amazonian women had tucked tiny dogs into their hand bags and strode out of sight with long legs so sheer, you couldn't imagine even a drop of water catching hold. Chinese tourists plucked see-through red and yellow plastic ponchos from their backpacks and carried on shuffling window to window. He had turned back to the shop and seen the shirt and bought it without even trying it on, caught up in the moment.

He hadn't felt old that day and, line for line, wrinkle for wrinkle, he looked more or less the same. It must have been something under the hood, a subtle difference in the self. Everything ironed, he showered and got dressed, matching a thin tie to the suit and shirt. He felt the warm caress of sunshine as he opened the front door and he stepped out into the awaiting day. A gorgeous pair of legs appeared at the end of his road, glowing gold in the light. Without a moments hesitation, he smiled broadly, slipped down his zip and showed her what he had.

In the back of the police car, he sat quietly. The officer asked him what he was grinning about but he didn't reply. As the car turned a tight corner, the seatbelt tugged at his jacket and he felt something from the inner pocket against his chest; it was a triple pack of condoms, from the last time he'd worn the suit. He chuckled to himself.