His bedroom pulsed with ties. Silk. Polyester. They pulled him into meetings. Flung him into social circles. Man of power. Distinction. He was an aficionado of man’s fundamental accessory, the tie.
One day, a tie didn’t cooperate. It ended lopsided. He tried to retie but the tie didn’t properly tie. He arrived at work cranky. Argued with coworkers, apparently without cause.
Scissors he took to his tie. Letter of resignation followed. He tossed the cutoff portion of his corporate tie out the car window.
Man of ties. Minus the job that had him tied.