The Velvet Coat

The velvet caressed her bare arms, for the very last time. She could still feel its warmth, like tiny fragments on her palm, the back of the elbow, and down the shoulders. It was as if she could whiff the fur, from which she had once longed to escape. She never noticed it had a smell!

It didn’t.  She smelt her confinement, the tight embrace and the pain. She had hidden beneath it long enough to grow accustomed. It was awkward to not be in agony, to not suffer, to not be ashamed. She was naked without it. The velvet coat had left, she hadn't.

That velvet coat was fear. 

And only at this very abandonment, she felt brave, to witness every bizarre motion that her spine once ached to feel. She was light like the autumn flower. She was weightless, and her feet knew no bound. She knew she could sit through dawn. She knew could wait, wide awake for the bright cherries in the crimson sun. In that very moment she knew she could walk till there was no land, speak till she could not hear her own voice and laugh till every flower bloomed.

In that very moment, she knew she could be happy for she knew she was free.