Jacket

Flash Fiction

A forgotten moleskin jacket in the closet, the only evidence you were ever here.  The scent of your perfume, hidden beneath the fold of the collar, stashed in the side pockets �" I could taste it when I kissed the back of your neck.    My fingers tracing your cheek, I had run my hands over your face so many times I could have sculpted it.

I watched from the bay window overlooking the honey locusts as you peddled your bicycle into the blanched morning light, your coat rippling behind you.  The last time I saw you, my last memory of you.  When I opened the door to your apartment that evening I found only an empty room.  I dropped the groceries where I stood and left.

I shut the door when I see it, a reflex.  Until this moment I have been able to look through it, beyond it.  Running my fingers over the jacket, it is supple, smooth like talc.  I still remember the color of your eyes, sapphire caught in sunlight, I still feel your trembling warmth pressing against my chest when I told you that I loved you.