Winter Coat

I was laying on top of my couch, lazily watching ads play through on the small, flat-screen TV. My roommate, Ray, was in the tiny kitchen behind the couch making a peanut butter and honey sandwich. However, I could only faintly smell the scented candles that were strewn in random places around the apartment. I didn't mind, of course, since she seems to have a good taste in candles, and they were never excessively strong in smell.

Behind me, Ray finished her sandwich and came to the couch, plopping down next to where I sat. Through a mouthful of bread, peanut butter, and honey, she managed to muffle out a semi-audible "Oh look, there's a big sale at the mall."

Re-focusing my attention at the TV, bright colorful percentages floated around clothes and household items. "50% on all the latest fashion!" and "Buy 1, get one free for dirt cheap!" flashed repeatedly as if trying to hypnotize us into money-spending zombies.

"Well, fall just arrived, so the temperature going to drop faster than the constant rain we've been getting. Maybe we should go out and get some shopping over with, so we don't have to put up with it later. Besides, it'd be better to go while they're doing seasonal sales," she said, finishing off her sandwich and wiping her hands on a napkin.

I thought about it, not wanting to leave the comfort of the couch but also thinking about some things I might be able to snag from discounts that would usually be too expensive.

"Alright, let me just throw on a change of clothes, I don't want to be caught up in the rain wearing sweatpants and a thick jacket."

Ray laughed and grabbed two small keys that were in a small bowl near the entrance door.

"I'll be outside waiting, and I'll go ahead and unchain your bike too for ya'," she said.

"Thanks. I won't be long, I promise."

I was pacing through the mall, two bags held in my right hand and my phone, pressed against my cheek as I call Ray, in the other. She had run off a few minutes before, saying how "the candles were calling her name," as if they had taken some spiritual form and she was who they chose to become the next destined Candle Queen. Now, of course, she's lost, and quite frankly so was I.

Soon after I hung up, a dressed mannequin in the store next to me caught my eye. It was wearing a dark-pelted wolfskin coat. The fur, which was a stunning black and gray, was on the inside, peaking out at the end of the sleeves and the hoody. Intrigued, I went inside and looked around until I found the stock of coats in the store. There were very few, but all were beautiful and rare. I checked the price tag on one of them.

$349.99, as opposed to its previous price of $789.99 before it became discounted.

Normally, I'd just scoff at such a price and leave without a second thought, but something kept nagging at me on the inside. So many silly excuses started to fill my brain to try and persuade me to buy the fine coat. It was almost as if my mind became two, one of my own conscious, and one of another.

Perhaps I could give up some of my television subscriptions like Disney + or Hulu. There's plenty of movies out there that I could watch through discs or cable networks. Plus, I could always work a couple of extra hours to help recover the dent in my banking allowance after the initial purchase. But was it worth it? All for a decent-looking coat?

"Go ahead," my mind egged me, "you're allowed to be selfish every now and then. You might even benefit from it in ways you can't possibly imagine."