It was found along the corridor, leading to the classrooms. It looked so alone, deflated–as if someone underneath it, who’d worn it, had been snatched from our Universe. I say “our” because school is often like its a universe unto itself. It’s not really accurate to call it “our” universe because it’s never felt like “my” school, so to say “our” is going beyond a lie.

Nevertheless I felt such a kinship with that trench coat–the sheen of the its beige lightweight material.
A boy said the trench coat belonged to a girl because of the way it buttoned up.
I had no idea what he was talking about. How would he know this if we were all just standing around looking down at it, without having tried it on, or even having lifted it off the floor to see the array of buttons. I couldn’t see any buttons.

Hmmm, I wondered. Was it even a trench coat?