“You’ll freeze wearing that thing,” she said casually, noticing my old coat hanging loosely from my shoulders.
I had taken to wearing it, even in the warmest weather, because it reminded me of my life before her. Scrounging through dumpsters, sleeping in my truck behind a grocery store. I remembered the cold nights and the frost on the glass. I had been alone, but now there was warmth. A kitchen, a home. I didn’t have to think about those nights anymore.
