As we walk through the sunny spring day, dodging the lunchtime throngs that crowd the mid-town sidewalk, I notice my co-worker's houndstooth blazer in a similar shade to one I received at Christmas, and I remark on it.
"I still need to get mine altered," I say, "because my arms are too long."
He is quite a bit shorter than me, and smiles at my words.
"I have the opposite problem," he says, tugging his cuffs, as if by doing so, he might make his arms longer.
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