Frivolous Dressorder The Commute ●

The train doors opened. We all shuffled inside. Grimes was already seated, clipboard out, scanning faces like a hawk scanning a field for injured mice.

Then I saw her.

But I had discovered a loophole.

The bubble popped on his tie.

So I started small. A hat shaped like a pineapple. A scarf woven from old cassette tape. Then, last Monday, I committed the sin of all sins: I wore a full-body sequined jumpsuit the color of a fire alarm, boarded the 7:15 express, and sat directly across from Marshall P. Grimes, Vice President of Compliance. Frivolous Dressorder The Commute

And from somewhere deep in the building, I heard the faint, beautiful sound of Grimes’s printer jamming on a memo it would never print.

They had cameras on the subway platforms. On the turnstiles. On the trains . Helix-Gray had somehow bribed the MTA. The train doors opened

The security monitor beeped. A red light flashed. I stood there, pineapple on my head, waiting.