The Swifty At thirty-five, Vincent Miller was a married successful lawyer at a prestigious firm in the city, known for his sharp wit, impeccable style, and unshakable demeanor. But beneath the tailored suits and stern expressions of a family man lay a secret---Vincent was a die-hard Taylor Swift fan. He had been enchanted by Taylor's music since he first heard "Teardrops on My Guitar" back in his college days, but as he climbed the corporate ladder, Vincent learned to keep his musical preferences hidden. His colleagues and friends expected him to listen to classical rock or new age, not pop songs about heartbreak and redemption. So, he kept his fandom under wraps, indulging in Taylor's music only when he was alone, his earbuds in, and his office door closed. When Taylor Swift announced her new tour, Vincent felt a flutter of excitement he hadn't felt in years. He desperately wanted to go, but the idea of anyone finding out was mortifying. He could already hear the teasing from his colleagues and the incredulous looks from his friends. So, he devised a plan. Vincent's eyes flicker over the Taylor Swift ticket on his phone with a mix of exasperation and reluctant admiration. His brow furrows as he mutters to himself, half in disbelief, half in self-deprecation. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips, betraying the internal tug-of-war between his self-criticism and the undeniable excitement bubbling up inside him. He can't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at how excited he is, as if admitting his fandom is somehow a personal failing. The brightness of the ticket's colors seems almost to taunt him, and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a rueful chuckle. He imagines his friends' reactions and winces at the thought, but deep down, the thrill of seeing his favorite artist live outweighs his self-consciousness. Vincent's gaze softens as he scrolls through the details of the event, the corners of his mouth turning up despite himself. His inner critic is momentarily drowned out by a wave of anticipation and happiness. "You won't tell anyone?" Vincent told his sister Kimberly. "Not a soul. Lots of men like Taylor Swift, you don't have to be embarrassed." "Not at my age. I would feel odd being surrounded by all those teenage girls." "Taylor appeals to many people, just just girls. Take your wife." "She doesn't know I like Taylor. I just want to go and blend in. I want to just enjoy the concert like everyone else." "If you say so." Vincent stood in front of the full-length mirror in his sister Kimberly's bedroom, his heart racing with anticipation. Kimberly effortlessly shined in every room she entered. Vincent loved her sister dearly, but he couldn't help feeling a bit envious of how easily Kimberly could transform herself with a little makeup, a new hairstyle, or a trendy outfit. If anyone could help him, it would be her. Vincent had challenged Kimberly to use her considerable skills to make him look like a completely different person. He wanted to see if she could shed his professional masculine image and make him into a Swifty. Someone who would shock everyone who knew him. "Are you sure about this?" Kimberly asked, holding up a long, curly blond wig that was a stark contrast to Vincent's usual short, chestnut hair. "Absolutely," Vincent replied, his voice steadier than he felt. "Make me look like someone else entirely. Make me into a Swifty!"
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