the blind hem tumblr.

→

Mom gave me her mink for Christmas, and I wanted to protest.

She bore it in her arms like a gift of the Magi and announced, “Merry Christmas. It’s yours now. What does an old lady need with a mink, anyway?”

She was sixty-one, looking fifty. Her coat was her prize possession.

“Besides,” she said, plucking her old fur from my closet, “I think the mouton fits me better now.”