It showed at first in the small details. Trouser creases that weren't perfectly straight. Slightly frayed cuffs. Shirts without starch. Then the shoes were scuffed and the tie clip was crooked. Soon there was no tie to clip. No suits to have pressed. Only jeans and big shirts, covering the reminders of greasy take-out dinners and too many shots of Jack Daniels. His appearance spoke loudly what his heart could never say. Mornings with grizzled cheeks and chin. Curls along his nape growing long and unruly. Like him. Raging against life's unfairness. Unable to keep step, keep right, keep up.