The Pink Coat

It was a knee-length, weather-resistant coat in a shade of bright pink that would make Barbie proud. Beautifully gaudy, outrageously American, she hadn’t planned on packing it without her friend’s encouragement. She buttoned it higher, protecting herself from the crisp June winter winds. While it made her stand out as she walked the suburban streets, tonight this outrageous coat carried a treasure.

She felt her right pocket. Was it still there? She thought she felt a small lump, but what if it was just a fold in the fabric? She didn’t dare reach into her pocket, fearing that the wind would tear the gift away from her. It would be lost into the night, breaking the spell.

She walked more briskly, arms at her sides. She tried to imagine him, remembering every detail. Her family and friends had warned her not to fall in love in New Zealand. She laughed to herself – perhaps fate didn’t care for warnings? But who knew if it would be love. It could be a fling, a friendship, or nothing at all. Still, she pictured him, his smile, his strong arms, the way his hair fell on his forehead, and most importantly – his eyes. She remembered the way his eyes squinted and wrinkled when he laughed, the glint in them as he suggested wild deeds, and the way those playful eyes turned soft as he listened to her. She saw so much in those eyes – compassion, adventure, wisdom.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to know if it was safe. She reached her right hand into the pocket. There it was, that tiny slip of paper. It felt so thin and fragile, as if too much handling would cause it to fall apart and disintegrate.

Safe in her room, she dared to remove the treasure from its keep. There it was, on the back of a receipt - a number scribbled next to a name that would become dear to her lips in the coming months.



Martha's Prompt: Imagine a coat. Imagine the pocket of the coat. Imagine what's in the pocket.