I don’t know why I wore that thing. When he said wear that thing he liked, I should have known he didn’t mean this thing, this formless burlap sack. I could barely hold in my excitement when he offered to take my coat, and then when I slid out and spun around, I could see the sudden disappointment in his eyes, that this was not the thing he expected me to wear.
He must have meant the other thing, the blue one, with the bare shoulders. How can anyone ever love me if I can’t even wear the right thing?