It was her least favourite part of the winter – the big ugly parka jackets. There was no way to look sexy in a parka. It was not an attractive item of clothing. There was very little to spice it up or make it more alluring. Most days she preferred to shiver than to don the coat of no redemption.
Then she met him, and he loved parkas. He loved the padding and the durability. He was a big fan of the way it felt like it was indestructible, as though he could withstand a nuclear attack. The minute the wind changed, he pulled them out and would relish long walks in the biting air, shrouded in the warmth of the coat. He would say that it was like being wrapped in a duvet.
She loved him and he loved parkas. So, she had gradually learned to love them to. She started wearing hers regardless of the occasion. If there was cold wind outside, then she was to be found in her parka. Then she started to see what he meant. It was like a duvet and she did love duvets. It was warm. She did feel like she could take on the world while wearing it – as though nothing could penetrate the thick down.
It had been a long time since she had seen him, but every year, when the leaves began to turn and she pulled the parka out of storage, she thought of him. It made her smile and silently thank him.