It’s a coat for the rain, or for what comes after it. It still holds the shape of something familiar. A London coat, worn without question. But something has settled into it. A quiet adjustment. The kind you don’t notice at first, until it feels necessary. There’s a strange comfort in how easily it makes sense. As if it belongs, even though it shouldn’t. It sits somewhere between habit and warning. Between what we wear, and what we’re slowly preparing for.
