The Gray Tie (A Short Story About Conformity)
Every morning, the commuters filled the platform in neat lines, each wearing the same gray suit, the same polished shoes, and the same tie the regulation gray tie.
Jeremy wore his too, though it itched at his throat. The rule was clear: a citizen without the tie would be seen as disruptive, unpredictable, and unwelcome. He had never seen anyone disobey.
But one morning, as the train screeched into the station, Jeremy spotted a man in the crowd whose tie was blue. It shimmered like the sea, bright and alive. Jeremy gasped, expecting guards, alarms, some terrible consequence. Yet the man simply stood there, calm, smiling faintly.
Jeremy couldn’t look away. His hand drifted to his own tie, tugging at the knot. He imagined loosening it, even slipping it off entirely. The thought made his heart pound with both terror and exhilaration.
The train doors opened. The crowd surged forward, heads bowed, steps synchronized. The man with the blue tie stepped aboard, vanishing among the gray.
Jeremy stayed frozen on the platform, fingers clutching the knot at his neck. He felt the fabric press against his skin like a leash.
And for the first time, he wondered whether it was holding him together or holding him back.