Light orange pins

Old Alfred paced back and forth in the front of the tailor shop he had owned for so many decades. He’d been stewing for a while now. At first, he’d been angry and impatient but as the day's light faded he was getting downright concerned. He stopped to look out the window but there was no sign of Jeremy.

Alfred had worked alone in his little shop for more than 50 years. He’d seen styles come and go and then come again as “retro”. Lately, however, his fingers weren’t as nimble as they used to be. Alfred tried to get his son, Gerald, interested in the family business but to no avail. It fell to Gerald’s eighteen year old son - Alfred’s grandson, Jeremy, to take the reins. Sadly, Jeremy didn’t seem to be working out. He was trying but just kept screwing up and Alfred had been hard on him.

This morning, Jeremy spilled a glass of orange soda all over a very expensive silk vest. Alfred yelled at him for ten minutes. Then the boy cut a length of virgin wool suit material too short, rendering it useless. Alfred yawped and yammered and threatened to dock the kids’ wages, then sent him down the street on an errand just to get him out of sight. That was just after noon. It was now almost four o’clock and the old man was getting worried.

Suddenly, with much thumping and banging, Jeremy came through the door carrying an ungainly assortment of containers.

“Where’ve you been? You were gone for hours!” Alfred exclaimed.

“I wasn’t sure what size you wanted so I bought them all. And the hardware store is four miles away! ” Jeremy explained.

Old Alfred felt the anger welling up from his core.

“Not bins you knucklehead. PINS!”