I felt terrible as soon as I saw it hanging there. I ran my hand along the black, empty sleeve of her coat and wished she was still wearing it. It all came back to me immediately, the way she looked in the bar the night before, the smile that gave me a buzz, the way she tugged my chair to let me know she wanted me closer. Mostly, it was the salt. She picked up my pint and waved the shaker over my napkin.
"So it doesn't stick," she said. It was one of those small things that only someone who cares for you would bother doing.
We were perfectly clear with each other from the start. Relationships were simply not for us. We had that in common. We weren't very good at commitments, there were others. If that wasn't enough, there was always the disappointment and the hurt, the loss and the inevitable end. We knew we would never make things work. There were no plans, no tomorrows. We really had a lot in common.
It seemed strange to me in the morning, that I was somehow smiling before I was sure I was really even awake. In spite of my insomnia, I could have lay there for days with her arms draped around me like a scarf. I kept sweeping the red hair away from her face, simply so I could see more of her. It made her smile, which made me do it more.
"You're warm to sleep with," she said, as if she was explaining the reason our clothes were strewn about like autumn leaves.
After she was ready to leave, we shared warm coffee in the cold apartment. She had places to be, and so did I. There was no time for breakfast.
"Are you sure you have everything?" I said.
"Yes," she said. "Don't worry."
That was supposed to be it. We parted with the kind of nonchalance that only two people who know this could be goodbye can feign. I had a shower, tied my tie, and all was well until I went to get my jacket and leave for work.
There it was. I had my cell phone in one hand, the sleeve of her coat in the other. "You're not going to believe this," I said.
"Oh," she said. "Well, I guess you'll have to bring it to me." I couldn't tell if she sounded surprised or not.
"I guess so," I said. "So much for not leaving anything." When she laughed, I caught the scent of her coat and closed the closet door. My mouth was dry, and my tongue passing over my lips only brought back the taste of hers. The moment involved more feeling than I had planned on feeling, but mercifully she was in traffic and I was late. With plenty of excuses, so it ended.
I started the car as the thought struck me. It was strange for her to forget her coat in the dead of winter. I sat there with my shivering hands in front of the air vents, thinking this cold was too unbearable to go unnoticed. I decided this must be her way of letting me know we should see each other again, playfully coated in forgetfulness. An old song came on the radio and said there's always something there to remind me. It stuck in my head all day.
I missed her call a few minutes later and she left me a voicemail. She gave me her address and said I could just mail the coat if it was easier. It was clearly an out, but I couldn't determine whether it was for her benefit or mine. I decided I'd call her in the evening, and ask her if she meant to leave the coat.
The flat tire came shortly after. She couldn't believe her luck.
"Maybe," I said, "you just weren't supposed to leave this morning."
"Could be," she said, "but I needed to."
"It is strange though," I said. "First the coat, and now this."
"I guess."
"Or did you do that on purpose?"
"It's freezing out here," she said. "Of course I didn't leave it on purpose. Is that what you thought?"
"The idea occurred to me."
"I thought you might have let me forget it."
"No, I had no idea it was there until I was about to leave," I said. "Freud would have a field day with this one."
"Oh really?"
"My guess is he'd say you had a subconscious desire to leave me with something, and I subconsciously wanted to hang on to you."
"Well I don't have a desire to die of hypothermia," she said.
"And I have no desire to start cross-dressing."
"Are you sure about that?" she said. "You sound sort of tempted."
"It is a pretty coat," I said. "And it does smell quite nice, but I'll fight that urge."
"Oh, don't lie," she said. "I know you just wanted it."
"Well, I'm mailing it now I guess. So if either of us did it intentionally it didn't work out anyway. Right?"
"True," she said.
The phone was so silent I thought my battery died.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what?"
"You freezing to death and getting a flat," I said. "I feel sort of responsible. If it weren't for me you'd be a lot warmer."
"It was worth it," she said.
I promised to send the coat the next day. A week later it was still hanging in my closet. There were now several inches of snow coating the ground. I felt like a heathen, a pathetic coat-thieving heathen. I wanted to bring it to her more than anything, but I didn't want to be wrong. I didn't want to find out that what I wanted to believe was there wasn't really there at all, that there was no reason for the things that happened.
I knew as long as I had it, there was a chance of seeing her again. But the longer I kept it the more problematic everything became. If I mailed it now, it could be goodbye. To make things worse I eventually imagined that if I didn't get this coat back to her the cold would drive her into the arms of another man.
Such was my obsession. I was getting too attached. I saw a future full of therapists.
She called my phone a few times and left me messages. I would respond with calls when I was sure she was sleeping, leaving vague messages about packaging complications and promises and apologies. I was buying time, but until when . . . the spring?
The next time I saw snow, I left in the middle of the night. It had been two weeks. I got on the highway, and headed east. The whole drive I kept trying to think of the words I would say to her, but they were like darting flies I couldn't swat. My finger was pressing the buzzer at her apartment before they came to me.
When she let me in, I suddenly realized I didn't even have her coat. She had a blanket and yawned and wrapped her blanket around her tighter. "What are you doing showing up in the middle of the night like this?" she said.
"Well, I came to bring you your coat," I said. "But somehow, I forgot it." I couldn't help feeling like a circus attraction, the World's Biggest Moron.
"You forgot it?" she said.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm sorry."
"On purpose?"
"No, of course not," I said.
"I gave up on you," she said. "I already found another one. I couldn't wait all winter. It's freezing."
I reached down and brushed the hair from her face. "But all I've wanted since I met you, was to keep you warm," I said.
She wrapped her arms around me, she was my scarf again and I knew that from then on the weather would turn and we could forget who we thought we were and warm up to what we could be.

Source: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1395907/my_morning_jacket.html