Oswald stirred uneasily in his chair. The leather sighed as he moved. It was his favorite chair . A chair of Worn, soft leather quietly leaking its horsehair stuffing.
He reached over and cranked the Victrola. Carefully he sat the needle down. From the golden Victrola horn a Paganini violin concerto filled the room. Soared to the high Gothic arches created by massive oak roots. The room was in shadows.
The fireplace the only light. Gilt lettering on leather-bound books reflected it back.
He rose and stood before the dusty, foxed mirror. Eyes black as a raven’s wing looked back at him. Then, and only then he lifted the coat from its layers of tissue paper. A magnificent garment of crimson velvet. Splashed with gold epaulettes. Reaching inside the coat he felt for the small watch pocket. Placing his watch in that pocket he could travel the world in an instant. He felt for a second deeper pocket. This pocket was bottomless. It would hold all he desired. There was magic sewn into every stitch, every seam of this scarlet coat.
Oswald slipped into the coat. He faced the mirror. It reflected a tall, intense, young man clad in a gorgeous, crimson coat. Oswald looked back into the comfortable, familiar room. Then Oswald, gentleman rabbit, turned off his Victrola, said good-by to his burrow, put his watch in the magic pocket, and stepped into the world above.