The Coat Nobody Had Requested

At the charity collection, Serena recognised the green coat immediately. She had given it to her sister last winter, wrapped in tissue paper and accompanied by a speech about buying something decent for once. Now it lay beneath a pile of scarves, apparently unworn. Serena picked it up before anybody else could examine the label.

Her sister arrived carrying another bag. Seeing the coat, she stopped, then asked whether Serena wanted it back. The offer sounded so reasonable that Serena felt more offended, not less. She had spent a considerable amount on it. Her sister said she knew, which somehow made the conversation harder rather than settling anything between them.

Outside, they loaded empty boxes into a van. Serena finally asked what had been wrong with the coat. Nothing, her sister replied, except that it belonged to an imaginary woman who enjoyed smart restaurants and never cycled in the rain. She had tried wearing it twice and felt as though she were borrowing someone else's expectations.

Serena carried the coat inside again and placed it on the donation table. She resisted the urge to explain its value to the volunteer. Later, the sisters bought sandwiches and ate them on a wall. Serena almost offered to replace her sister's torn gloves, but asked about the bicycle instead. They talked for twenty minutes before the next van arrived.