Soft as a winter kiss

It was a sunny day, slightly windy. The weather had changed, as it does by the end of September, and I had picked a light coat from my wardrobe after a few months of short sleeves and flowy dresses. I had bought it the previous year, in a second-hand store, because it had that classic touch that could match most of my clothes, and the touch of it was silky. After wearing it a couple of times, I realized that touching it was comforting, and that's why I had used it a bunch before the good temperatures arrived, and I chose more summery outfits.

Autumn was catching up, and there I was, walking on the street, caressing the linen in my pocket, when I heard someone behind me.

"Elisa, it it you? Elisa?"

I turned and saw an old man walking toward me, followed by a younger woman trying to convince him to stop.

"It's not her, George, she's not here," she said, but he did not listen and kept walking so fast that I thought he was about to run me over. 

I took a couple of steps back, and I still don't know why. Considering I did not know any of them, the right thing would have been to keep walking and let that woman take care of him. Still, instead, I stopped and looked at them, wondering what was happening and who Elisa was that caused so much trouble. When the man was close to me, he grabbed my arm. He was not aggressive but for sure had determination in his eyes, and once more, he said:

"Elisa, I thought I had lost you." 

His voice trembled, and his blue eyes shined like little diamonds. I noticed a gold wedding band on his finger, and right then, the woman who walked with him whispered to his ear—loud enough for me to hear—to let me go, but he didn't, not entirely. His fingers started to open, and then, with his index finger, he pointed to my coat.

"But, it's her. It's her coat," said the man.

"There are many like those, Dad," replied the woman. It seemed that was not the first time something like that had happened. She continued talking to him slowly but clearly. Mum is gone; I am here."

I smiled at them and kept on walking. I entered a coffee place to order something to drink and saw them passing by, the woman speaking and the man listening. None of them seemed happy; both seemed sad as they walked down the street. 

I got my coffee and returned home, unable to take out of my head the image of that man who had confused me for someone he loved. Once at my place, I opened my laptop, checked my emails, and worked a little bit, but from my desk, I could see the hanger where I had placed my coat. Suddenly, as if I had been pulled by a strange force, I stood up, walked, and grabbed it. I wasn't feeling myself. I sat on the couch, put the coat in my lap, and a tremendous sadness overtook me. I closed my eyes and started crying, alone in that tiny apartment I had rented on my own a couple years before. It was my little castle, my refuge, the place I shared with no one else. It was mine, only mine, only me, alone... 

"Everything will be okay," I heard.

I opened my eyes and looked around me. Was I losing my mind, hearing voices? I had closed my laptop, the television was switched off, and no one was calling. Who was speaking?

"Things might seem difficult now, but they will get better."

I stood up with the coat still in my hands.

"Who's there? Who are you?" I whispered, fearing what I might hear back, but nothing happened. No one spoke. It was only me, holding that beige coat that once belonged to someone else. 

I was so puzzled and scared that the only comforting thing I could think about was wearing the coat, and so I did. I put it on, buttoned it, and held the belt in my hand when I noticed something like a piece of paper in one of the belt edges. I looked carefully at the fabric and realized the thread color did not match the rest. It seemed to have been opened and sawn again, and driven by curiosity, I looked for a pair of scissors. I decided to look for whatever had been hidden.

I cut the stitches carefully and discovered a little yellow paper carefully folded. When I opened it, there was something written that took me a while to understand, that chilled my bones once I did:

"It will happen soon, and he will say he loved me much. But he didn't. Elisa."

I let the paper fall.

Sitting on my couch, I realized that it had been Elisa's coat and thought about that man who seemed to love her so much. Who was he? What had he done?

I did not sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined the face of an old woman staring at me, so I stopped trying and threw myself at the never-ending addiction of scrolling on my phone. The sun said good morning, and I knew I needed a coffee. I put on my coat and left the house. On my way to the coffee shop, I noticed the little paper in my pocket and felt the chills again in my whole body. 

I was waiting for my order—an extra-tall latte with double expresso—when I saw the man walking on the street. He was alone this time, and when he looked inside the shop, our eyes locked.

Someone called my name, and I rushed to pick up my caffeine dose. I thought I had dreamed of him. There was no chance, in such a big city, to see him twice, but when I turned, he was there, in front of me, and once more, he grabbed my arm. He was not gentle this time, and his eyes did not seem crystals but fire.

"What did she say?" he told me.

"I am sorry, I don't know what you're speaking about."

"What did Elisa say to you? She likes to play..."

I shook his hand off and stepped back. He smiled, and I was terrified. As I walked to the door, he continued:

"I'll find her. I always do."

I ran home, closed the door, and took the coat so fast that the paper in the pocket fell onto the floor. I looked at it and saw something I had not seen before. On the other side, three words: 

"He found me."