The Barbecue

The evening wind flapped his purple and pink spotted tie against his torso. It wasn’t a warm night, nor cool; it was an indecisive child choosing between a Snickers and a lollipop. He locked his car with that embarrassingly feminine mee-meep and walked on. The gentle sound of cocktail chatter carried from the backyard, but he wasn’t soothed. His stomach gurgled in anticipation. These things always had great food. Still, he wasn’t sure of himself as he lifted the cold rusty latch and stepped into the gathering. GQ left him lately fashionable, though here he was beyond fashionably late.