The Things They Wore
A pair of skinny jeans on a pair of skinny legs, a rolled up comic book crammed in the front pocket.
A white mustache, impeccably trimmed.
A hard-sided rolling bag the color of bubblegum with a furry neck pillow buttoned around the handle.
A red wool sheath dress with nude pumps, accessorized with a flute of lunch champagne.
Sparkly sunglasses parked on her forehead like a buggy second pair of eyes.
A sleeve of tattoos. A blur of rolling color.
Tiny floral sneakers.
An elegant cane, curved like a swan’s neck.
Dark heavy valet jackets and shiny, gold-edged name tags.
Mother-daughter matching houndstooth coats.
A silky scarf covered in frogs.
A chef’s uniform with a towel slung through the apron waistband.
A rubber leash attached to a pair of Yorkies.
Short cognac leather boots, whiskered with age and adventure.
A camera, long of lens, pitched up to the chandelier.
A black parka, frosted with salt. A peacoat the color of a robin’s egg.
A simple gold wedding band wrapped around a gleaming silver snack tray.
A thick graying braid snaking to her waist, tied with a gauzy maroon ribbon.
A conceierge’s stately tails.