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It was in its usual corner of the studio, casually tossed in a corner utterly unbecoming a raincoat of its make and vintage. It was a classy style of the type its owner could only posses due to the generosity of a kind old aunt with a penchant for gifts that could be of use. Due to her recent departure from this world, it was not soon due to be replaced.

It is not in the psychology of coats to be resentful. This one in fact nearly had a sense of pride, having no competition for its owner's use. Its labels were rumpled and its many pockets were lined with a detritus of city life. Half-smoked cigarettes and candy wrappers lay on beds of crumbs. It didn't matter. It was Wednesday. Today's work had a welcome respite from the usual duties of warming summarily ended by being tossed into the corner pile along with the wearer's boots and hat.

Coats do not have exceptional memories, but something in it's owners step reinforced the sense of anticipation. swept up and put on, unbuttoned and uneven, the pair walked out into the grim October streets.

In the train, the wearer, still recovering from his escapades the night before and the fact that he had managed to finish his essay in time for his 5 am deadline, spilled coffee all over his faithful old coat twice.

At the usual subway station, the pair passed along the fashionable shops and offices that lined the avenue. The shiny dry cleaned and tailored coats adorning their hipster owners looking on at the coat the way townspeople would at a man who had recently been successful but was now in the gutter. The coat did not mind. This was all he'd ever know. It was three flights of stairs up to the flat, where the pretty young lady who lived there always greeted the wearer with a smile. As always, he discarded the coat. On the floor. a chair. And as always, the girl would smile reproachfully, gather up the faithful old coat and mounted it on the wall coat rack that lined the little hallway besides the door.

''I wish you could just remember where things go, for once'' the young lady. The wearer mumbled some form of agreement and the couple went to sit by the window.

The coat snuggled up against the brass knob and the cedar wood. It was still not a bad looking coat. The young lady had as fashionable a collection as her modest salary afforded. but these had long since grown used to the ragged apparition now sharing space. The coat stretched out, enjoying the cool air running along inside it. Vaguely it could recall its brief time in the showroom, with all the other young bachelor coats. They were all going we be worn by lawyers and bankers, in the company of the finest brands. They would be put on proud owners by butlers and pamperingly taken off by doormen at posh hotels. But even a coat, with the hindsight that only experience can give, can reconcile itself to circumstances other than those once set out for itself. Besides, all those coats who had made it to the ball had been relegated to the scrap heap as last seasons model anyway In the coats case, it always had a comfy hour to look forward to on Wednesday.

As the wearer stepped out, pulling the coat from its lofty perch and saying his farewell, the young lady again reminded him, ''Roger, don't you think its time for a new coat?''

''Oh? this old things got some years in it yet''.