There's nothing I can add to this. Go read.
That jacket was tangible proof that there was no magic in the world. Here was this thing that I could hold and smell and feel and it seemed like so much a part of Mike. It still smelled like cigarettes and mischief. It was the king’s armor and it was mine. It was also undeniable proof that if Mike was mortal, I was somehow less than mortal. I was downright fragile.