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The story opens as Miss Brill sits in the Jardins Publiques, or public gardens, of an unnamed French seaside town or city. It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon in autumn. She feels a slight chill in the air, which makes her happy that she has worn her fur stole. It is the first day she has worn it this season.
She thinks back to when she took the fur from its box. She shook off the powder used to keep moths away, gave it a good brushing, and shined its artificial eyes. She imagined that its eyes asked what had been happening to it and saw that its nose needed repair, but she decided to repair it later. She treats the fur like a beloved pet, calling it her “dear little thing” and “little rogue.”
As she sits on the bench, Miss Brill feels a tingle in her hands and arms and a light, perhaps sad, stirring in her chest. She attributes the sensations to the exercise from walking. More people fill the park than had been there the previous Sunday. The autumn social season has begun, and the band on the park rotunda sounds happier and louder than on other days. The band, Miss Brill suspects, puts on a better, more enthusiastic performance when strangers are present than it does when it’s just the year-round audience of regulars.
Miss Brill sits on her usual, “special” seat, sharing it with an old couple. The woman holds a roll of knitting on her apron, while the man clutches a walking stick. They sit without speaking. This disappoints Miss Brill because she has enjoyed listening in on their conversations. She likes “sitting in other people’s lives” without their knowing it, and she recalls the previous Sunday. An Englishman and his wife sat near her then, holding a dull conversation about whether the woman needed eyeglasses. Their conversation was so vapid that Miss Brill wanted to shake the woman.
She decides to ignore the silent old couple and focuses her attention on the vibrant crowd. Couples and groups parade back and forth in front of the flower beds and the band rotunda. People greet each other, stop to talk, and buy flowers from an old beggar. Children play on the grounds, laughing and running. The boys wear large white bows under their chins, and the girls are dressed in velvet and lace. Miss Brill compares the girls to “little French dolls.” Whenever a toddler breaks free from its mother and falls, the child’s mother runs to scold and rescue it.
Miss Brill notes that there is something “funny” about the regulars who, like her, sit on the benches and green chairs every Sunday. They are “odd, silent, nearly all old,” and they stare around them as if they’d just emerged from dark rooms or closets. After making this observation, Miss Brill turns her attention toward the natural setting. She notices the sky, clouds, and trees beyond the rotunda. The leaves are yellow, and she can glimpse the sea behind them. The band plays on with a happy tune.
