Outside the change room,
she looked into the mirror.
in the pale blue duster jacket.
Perfectly suited her colouring.
“I love this,” she sighs.
“I love these on other people. I just know that I would never wear it.”
I am aghast. “You could wear it to the grocery store!” She could wear it anywhere.
But no. She left in an orange dress, that made her complexion blotchy.
I have no business being sad, that she put away a pale, blue jacket, that suited her,
because of fears I’m imagining for her.
“Do you imagine I’m conservative?” she asks.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I shrug.
But she looked damn fantastic in that blue duster jacket.