Short fiction: A middle-aged man quits his job to become an Elvis Presley impersonator

Karthik caressed the fabric as if it were the cheek of a loved one. He used the back of his palm, allowing the cloth to shift and slide against his fingers, pulling his hand away guiltily when he noticed the grime beneath his fingernails. Sheathed in plastic, the outfit hung at the back of an olive-green Godrej cupboard, tucked to the right and out of sight. He should have washed his hands.

He hoped it still glimmered the way it had when he had set eyes on it a little over a decade ago at Chagganlal Dresswallah’s store in Juhu. It had felt like a summoning, his eyes settling on a corner of its sleeve as it peeked out from a waving mass of hot pink and turquoise. It had cost more than his monthly salary at the time, and he remembered the salesman stifling a bored smile as he handed over the clothes and pointed to a cashier at the front of the store. What could a dark-skinned boy want an Elvis Presley costume for? He could have his answer today, Karthik thought grimly, if they were to meet.

Pushing the outfit aside as he reached for a plaid shirt, he recalled the...

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