Trifecta Challenge – Wretched

Today’s Music: Echo and the Bunnymen – The Cutter
Days Til Spring: 22

I have absolutely no idea how often I’ll participate in these. but this one just sort of developed itself.
Honest criticism is welcomed in the comments. Seriously, if it sucks, or you have issues with it, let me know. It would be nice to actually be good at writing…
(Oh, and for those of you with no interest, click the Friday Foolishness tag above the picture at the top, and check out last Friday’s earworms. But don’t share them. Really, that’s just mean.)

The Monday Friday Challenge from Trifecta:
wretched adjective \ˈre-chəd\

1: deeply afflicted, dejected, or distressed in body or mind

2: extremely or deplorably bad or distressing

3: being or appearing mean, miserable, or contemptible (dressed in wretched old clothes)

Again, please use the third definition in no less than 33 and no more than 333 words. Have fun.

So here’s my entry. At 333 words. If Hotspur gets extra points for the 333, then I want em too. Even if his is better.

His suit didn’t fit. Too long in the sleeves, too wide at the collar. The seat crept up his ass.
He didn’t care. He shuffled along as the clouds slowly crept up on the sun. He could feel the air cooling as they devoured it.
He didn’t care.
Wet hit his misshapen nose. One drop. He tilted his head skyward. Another drop. Another. The beginnings of a torrent. He looked around for shelter. Maybe a discarded newspaper or plastic bag. There were none.
The deluge started, pouring from the sky, dousing him, overwhelming him, drowning him. Water poured in down the too wide collar, down into the seat of his pants. Rivulets streamed down the too long sleeves, dripping off the ends of his fingers, to be lost in the flash flood at the curb.
He didn’t care.
He slouched along through the cold wet, one of his shoes squeaking with the water it absorbed at every step…
At the corner he turned into the small office building where he worked. He trudged across the lobby to the elevators. Reflexively, he pushed the button and waited.
Nothing happened.
After a few minutes he looked up.
Out of order.
He sighed and turned to the stairs.
Squish. Squish. Squish.
He labored his way up the steps, the coolness of the conditioned air making him shiver inside his wet, sopping clothes. He pulled open the door to his floor, made his way into his office, found his way to his desk.
He took off his coat, sleeves dripping on the page of the report he’d been working on all week. His silk tie was water-stained and rumpled, the rain ruining that too…
He sat down, turned to the small window next to his cubicle for a look outside.
The clouds were rolling back away, sunlight streaming again.
Of course, now that he was sitting at his desk.
He could hear the weather forecast come from another cube. More rain for the afternoon.
Another wretched Monday…