In all seriousness; depending on the genre you are writing to, Patrick, a shirt story might not be a bad idea at all:
I don't know how I came to be there, amongst others like me in small, tidy piles folded to reveal our collars and strings. It was a most awkward experience. Being taken and handled. Examined. Commented on. Occasionally a torso would fill my innards, sometimes excruciatingly so by physique, toned or far from it, that strained at my seams. To then be unceremoniously peeled off and tossed back on the pile. Through the days and every evening being carefully folded and re-placed on display. It was a dreary existence.
Until one day I did not go back in the pile. Carefully folded and placed into a bag, I made a journey to the wardrobe of a fine young man. These are our adventures together.
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