“We named this shirt after a guy who used to work in our office. You know the type, worked nights, Saturdays and Sundays. A vice-president by the age of twenty-eight. Then one day he just snapped. Poor Henry, I guess the growth got him. Last we heard he was living off 20-inch trout from the stream outside his window. This is the shirt he was wearing the day he decamped. Henry’s shirt. The softest, cushiest shirt you’ll ever escape in.”

– a product description remembered from a clothing catalog whose name I don’t remember. Was it Coldwater Creek? – Roy H. Williams