Classic bowtie.
Rado wristwatch.
White shirt.
Black Tuxedo.
The entire arena stood in silence to listen to the beats of his expensive footwear from Woodland. The room blossomed with the aroma of his Gucci scent. The audience silently admired his Armani white shirt. The ladies were left in ephemeral ecstacy; the gentlemen in absolute envy.
He walked with pride, without a care in the world. He was never neck deep into women; nor was the wine his cup of tea.
Ignoring all the masculine glares and the feminine stares, he came to a halt and ordered a lemonade for himself. He sipped his first and looked around himself with his beautiful brown, kohl-smeared eyes. He stood apart from the rest of the arena. No matter how rich he was, he did not fit in even the slighest bit wheresoever he went.
“The outside world is a cruel place.” His dad always used to say. After all, he was the one who used to understand him the best. He was the only one left for him since he turned 14, as his mother departed, for someone even richer, leaving behind a rich single father and a rich young kid. Now what only remains of his dad, is his words. The ones which he spoke before he allowed the alcohol that he had consumed, consume him.
He was not the friendliest kid in highschool. Nor was he the heartbreaker. But definitely someone with a past and a story of his own. Perhaps, which made him stand apart from the rest of the world. Everyone knew that he hid a secret within those wonderful eyes; a story behind that attitude.The world soon, accepted as he was. But he could not help but wonder, if it was okay to be the weirdest of all.
As he pondered over this fact, he recalled what his dad once averred. To be the number 1, you gotta be odd. He smirked. There comes the answer to all his queries.
He finished sipping his last…. and with all eyes on him he strode. The world now beheld, a confident, young man.
The man in that black tuxedo.
© Khushi Suneja
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