Ghost of a flea

I hold to this idiotic tradition because it’s one of those little details. You know the ones: If you don’t do it, it looks like you have no idea what you’re doing even if you do know what you’re doing and why you’re not doing it. Buttoning that bottom button will make every half-smart dick think they have something on you. And the only thing more insufferable than a half-smart dick is one who thinks he has the upper hand. So fuck it – I leave it undone.

But I yearn for the day when my vest buttons can all be done up. The day when I can stop aping some fat monarch.