He stood, pinching and pulling the front of his chinos off his Derbys like a still-thin Wilford Brimley. The strained gesture belied our customary Casual Delight. He wasn't born and bred in those clothes–his old man wore sweatpants like the rest of ours–and even after a decade in the garb of social mobility, it still bound on the fact that none of us had even touched a sailboat.

Published by BLKBK

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