Furcoat

He sat there listening to the dancetunes, looking at the silk stockings and the high heels and the furcoats and the pretty girls’ faces pinched a little by the wind as they came in off the street. […] Doris panted a little breathless from the stairs as she threw open her furcoat.

The transporters, they were resting, sprawled out, in the back of their wagons, like leisurely gentlemen or like the hills. And in their heavy furcoats![…]—there are random traces of exhalation on the windowpane, a thin nightshirt held tight in front of my belly, crease and squeeze, yes, he is looking at me, his furcoat swings and rocks around his body like a churchbell.

The people wore huge furcoats and furcaps covering their faces, peepholes for noses; […] Clara stood by smiling, holding baby Eugenie, recalling how he had played with her and her brothers so long ago by setting a lantern on the floor to enlarge his shadow on the wall and entering with his furcoat like a bear on the loose, recalling stories of doppelgangers and caricatures on the piano.