The Gray Tie, Part II
That night, Jeremy couldn’t sleep. The image of the blue tie lingered behind his eyes, vivid as a flame. He had never realized how colorless the city was until then. Now, everywhere he looked, the gray seemed oppressive on the walls, on the uniforms, in the eyes of people who never met his gaze.
The next morning, Jeremy stood before his mirror, tie in hand. His fingers hesitated. What if he simply… didn’t wear it? The thought was madness. Cameras watched every door. Neighbors noticed everything.
But he wanted to know.
He tucked the gray tie into his pocket and stepped outside, his throat bare.
At first, nothing happened. The street was the same, lined with silent commuters. No one screamed. No one dragged him away. But slowly, he began to notice eyes flicking toward him. Not openly just sidelong glances, quickly averted. He saw lips press tighter, footsteps quicken. The crowd seemed to lean away from him without moving.
On the train platform, he stood alone in a bubble of empty space, as though his very presence was contagious.
Then, just before the train arrived, Jeremy noticed something. A woman across the platform looked at him not with fear, not with disgust, but with recognition. Her hand rose to her throat, where a gray tie hung perfectly knotted. For a heartbeat, she tugged at it, just slightly, as though testing its grip.
The train roared in, drowning the moment.
Jeremy stepped aboard. And for the first time, he realized he was not the only one who had seen the blue tie.