Standing tall and straight, the grey suit fit well being just the right length in the leg, showing a small amount of sock before highlighting the highly polished black shoes. The crisp white shirt held taut at the neck with a smart blue tie, cuff links at the wrist. freshly shaven, hair freshly cut. ready for anything. But look closer, inspection time where Gunny Hartman would inspect with a fine eye for detail and then the issues arise, the impeccable facade begins to slip.
Standing and looking at the side you see that there is a slight stoop, he isn’t standing as tall as he could. Small imperfections in the suit, a small thread pull here, a small discolouration there, nothing significant on its own but glaring when taken as a whole. the shirt has creases, sharp lines that dig into the symmetry of its cut, they had best stay hidden, beneath the jacket. It was the eyes that gave it away really, a perpetual sadness that lay just beneath that no smile could eradicate a sadness that was deep routed, ingrained; caused by many things over many years, but it needed to be hidden, at least for today.