Twelve silver painted buttons aligned the front. Fringe of lace on both of the cuffs, still it remained masculine with a touch of character and uniqueness. It smelt of the cigars he only smoked at parties in the company of collages and those he wished to impress, never really caring for their taste. When the grip of loneliness takes a hold, drowning her down Peg digs through the hall closet, passed the winter coats, the wedding dress to that brown overcoat, and holds it tightly as if him. She could no longer keep count on it the stains of tears.
