Off the Rack
The placard out front read: Second Skin Tailoring: For the man who wants to feel good and look right. It was after ten in the evening and this was the only shop window still lit on the narrow, rain-soaked street.
The clerk inside looked up as a blast of cold, damp air entered the building along with a figure in a trench coat and broad-brimmed hat. “Good evening,” he called before returning to the balance sheets on his desk.
The figure moved in and out of the display racks, slowly hovering along the floor like fog. It perused the looks of city officials and policemen, dancers and would-be debutantes. Finally stopping in front of a simple accountant.
“Not particularly flashy,” the clerk said as he walked up behind the customer. “But I imagine you could blend in just about anywhere in this.”
Though he could not see the customer’s face beneath the upturned collar and wide hat brim, he could feel the malevolent grin as it oozed out with the rainwater in small puddles on the floor.
“Of course,” he added quickly, “we’ll take care of any cleaning as well as tailoring at no extra charge.”
The customer silently offered his arm and, with that, the clerk began peeling off the trench coat so he could get at the shirt and skin beneath and begin his real work. Meanwhile, the accountant stared back, silent, in wide-eyed horror.