A Trunk is a Chest is a Nest

Sometimes I'm really not smart. (Often.) Early this year I lost my oldest sweater. It was kind of falling apart and made me look homeless. But it was the best sweater I ever had. Deep blue, a zip-down hoodie. It was thicker than usual, slightly padded and snug, and had a single green strip down either side of the zipper, on the inside, which looked interesting. Tragic loss.

Except I didn't lose it. It was in the trunk of my car all along. With some rotten food. And a dead mouse. The poor creature had gotten in somehow, but never got out.

I found it a few months ago, the sweater, height of summer, but only just tried wearing it. Yeahnope! I reacted to mold. I'll have to wash it more, which might shred it. The mortality of sweaters.

It's moments like these that give me inspirations for stories/songs/games I never write: Sweaters for the Dead. Sweaters from the Dead.