He let his shoulders roll forward. The motion stretched the skin of his back tightly across his spine, and a few flecks of black came loose. He reached back one of his long, lanky arms, and scritch-scratched at the tiny, scale-like growths that plagued his body. Some of them came free as he scratched, and he sighed with catharsis. His arm fell back down to his side, and he mournfully noted the sensation of new black scales growing back to cover the exposed patches on his back.
He would never leave this place, this hospital for lost causes. The walls were black with soot and ash from the fireplace that was never cleaned, the floor staine
It wasn't a matter of life and death so much as it was a matter of absolute indignity. A societal impurity. A violation of the contract of men. It wasn't a swordfight or a pistol duel or a murderer running loose, but it needed to be defeated all the same. It needed to be squashed with the collective might of all that is good and beautiful in the world.
It was a dress.
But stars, what an ugly dress it was. I won't describe it for you, because with my luck my little diary would fall under the nose of some person whose sense of the aesthetic had been so severely perverted that they would cry out "That sounds like a lovely dress!" And of