Unworn Suit

The garment bag felt heavy, slick.

I walked it through the bright lit store.

A purchase made on a foolish trick,

for a future that would come no more.

I laid it down, a heap of grey,

the cashier's face, a blank, tired gaze.

No questions asked, no words to say,

just scanning tags through a tired haze.

The crisp receipt, a paper square,

returned to me, cold in my palm.

It cancelled out the empty air,

a quiet, unremarkable calm.