A shorts story

See if you can catch this trend in my stories. First, from Offline.

“Shorts!” Martha blurted, “I don’t wear shorts! I have legs like tree trunks, and I don’t wear shorts!”

And Amiga.

I stood there wearing shorts and a t-shirt. A man I didn’t know, who had just commented on my bare legs, asked me to come into his bedroom. But this man was obviously Peter, the person who wanted me to program for him. And he was giving me my first opportunity to work with a new computer. What do I do? What should I say?

And The Remainders.

I hated wearing shorts, partly because I had been traumatized by those embarrassingly short shorts I wore in PE at El Toro High School in the eighties and partly because I felt uncomfortable about my legs and everything else about me. Somehow, I felt more comfortable in front of Rachel.

And my current work, Christina’s Portrait.

I forced myself to get out of the car and go through the familiar rituals of shutting the garage door, entering the house through the service porch, and going to the bedroom to change into my t-shirt and shorts. Even though I had an air conditioner installed eight years ago, changing into shorts had become a ritual.

So, here’s the long story about shorts and how a character’s outfit reveals their…