I love seeing someone wearing the same shirt as me. I like imagining that we went shopping at the same store, and that our moods aligned like the stars, giving us the same urge to buy the same bland shirt at the same moment in time.
Anyway! A few hours ago a coworker came into my office, talking about one thing or another, and in the middle of his spiel I noticed we were wearing the same button down shirt. Sure, his was ironed and tucked in, but they were still the same, clear as day, so I started laughing; nothing mean, just a giggle.
"What are you laughing at?" my coworker asked.
"We're wearing the same shirt," I said, and I laughed a little louder, marinating in the moment so deserving of a high five. Yet I resisted.
"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?" my coworker asked.
Then I got quiet. Real quiet, and I blushed for a minute, as my coworker stared down to his shirt, as if waiting for a pizza stain to form. Actually...scratch that. I only blushed for a second, not a minute. Because you know what? Fuck that guy. Wearing the same shirt is funny, and I'm not apologizing for that.
"No, I have not been listening to you," I said.
And then he left. Down the hall. Briskly. Ah, well! Maybe he should try untucking his shirt.