The Vivid Man, by Bert Woodall

When George Tilley first moved to the small town in the low mountains he sometimes felt out of place, conspicuous even. But he was never anywhere near as conspicuous as the old guy George was watching cross the street.

This man would have been conspicuous at a convention of vaudevillian golfers: He was wearing polyester knit trousers of a vivid Easter-egg-yellow-on-bright-white plaid, along with an impossibly bright, saffron-yellow shirt under a blazing blue plaid sports jacket.

Read the rest in the Writing Zoo.