Rental Tux

It chafed like some new skin we’d grown, or feathers, the cummerbund and starched collar pinching us to show how real this transformation into princes was, how powerful we’d grown by getting drivers’ licenses, how tall and total our new perspective, above that rusty keyhole parents squinted through. We’d found the key: that nothing really counts except a romance bright as Technicolor, wide as Cinerama, and this could be the night. No lie.