The orange coat

The orange coat

It was blowing a gale and gloomy as we walked down the path. He trailed behind, dragging his legs and hiding in his hood. The orange of his jacket shouted out against the dark greens and brown of the wood. Fifteen euros from the Decathlon reduced rail bought the week before we left for Péru. He slept in it the first night of the trek and huddled in it the second day as we climbed to the top of the Salkantay pass in the snow. Other days it billowed out behind him as he careered over rocks and round horses, happily chatting to himself.

Today it’s been left on the hook to the side of the stairs next to the doorway to where I work. It’s not coat weather any more but I can’t yet bring myself to put it away.