Hanging on the wooden coat rack with the fuzzy scarves and hats to match. I wonder every morning if this time she will pick me, a bright purple leather jacket with green polka dots to wear over her pretty blouse. This “pick me” game is played daily, but I am never the winner— the plain black jacket is always chosen to umbrella her from the changing weather outside. As years pass and spring cleaning comes around I have finally been picked off the dusty rack. But instead of being worn I am placed in a cardboard box and sent away. Where I will never have the chance to be picked by her.