I’ve been wearing my winter coat for the past two or three days — it’s long, very structured, and extremely red. Molly says it makes me look like a movie star; all I can think of when I’m walking through the subterranean corridors of the T in the mornings is how safe and self-enclosed it makes me feel, like I’m making my way through the universe ensconced in my own private cloister made of wool. In the summer I am open and awake and vulnerable, bare skin exposed to the air and skirts fluttering about my legs. Something in the warmth of the world connects me to everyone else. In winter I am wrapped in a blanket I carry with me everywhere I go, separated from other bodies by a protective layer and still half asleep despite my daily dose of hot black coffee.

Happy Thanksgiving, darlings. We’re making turkey for the very first time tomorrow. Wish us luck!