"Miss Brill" by Katherine Mansfield begins with the titular Miss Brill contemplating her old fur coat as she makes her way to a park, as is her tradition on Sundays. The fur seems alive to her:
She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown! . . . But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind—a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came—when it was absolutely necessary . . . Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear.
The fur is very dear to Miss Brill. She seems to view it as she would a companion or a pet. Once at the park, Miss Brill sits on a bench, her "special seat," and views the activities around her. A band...
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