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The hat was essentially an extension of the man. It rested atop his balding head like a bird's nest resting on the branch
of an Oak tree. Precariously it balanced, yet there was no worry of it ever falling off. It was a finely crafted bowler hat,
somewhat worn with age, but still, a glimmer of it's worth shined through. Once it was a mighty black, now it was a dull dark
gray. A vibrant red ribbon was wrapped around it, giving it flair that it normally wouldn't have. The man replaced the ribbon
about once a month.
The man had bought the hat years before. He saw it at a garage sale a few blocks from his home.
He was strolling by, chilled by the brisk October wind, when the hat caught his eye. He fished around in the pockets of his
wool sports jacket, handed 45 cents to the smiling garage sale organizer, and immediately placed the hat on his head. It had
seldomly left his head since that day.
The man had a reasonable salary, but lived alone and had nobody to provide for
but himself. He was somewhat greedy, and never hesitated to make a buck, no matter how seedy the means were.
One day,
as he strolled down the same street where he had bought the hat years before, a shifty looking man pulled him aside.
"Say,
that's a nice hat ya got there, how about ya sell it to me for...say...5 dollars?"
The man was sentimentally attached
to this hat, yet, money was money. Without hesitation, the man agreed. He handed his hat over to the shifty looking man, received
5$, and was on his way.
When he got to his work building, the boss called him to his office via Intercom. The man strolled
to the boss' office without a second thought, and sat down in a leather chair. The boss wore a serious facial expression,
and began to speak.
"We've been doing massive layoffs lately as you may or may not know, and we're very sorry to tell
you that we don't need you to work here anymore. Pack up your things and be gone for tomorrow".
The man stumbled out
of the office. Everything seemed surreal. All he wanted was to go home and have a drink. He went back to his cubicle, to get
his hat, forgetting that he had sold it. When he realized it wasn't there, he pondered whether selling it was a good idea
or not.
He began walking home, but noticed a black car in front of his house. A man walked out, and came up to him.
"Do
you live on 567 Evergreen Street?"
The man nodded.
"Your last few checks bounced, and we're repossessing your
house, I hope you can find somewhere to stay until this is sorted out."
Two months passed. For lack of any other options,
the man now lived on the streets, roaming from one garbage dumpster to another.
The man now sat on the dirty sidewalk,
extremely cold and hungry. He shivered, and placed his hands on his head, perhaps expecting his hat to be resting atop his
head once again. He tried to hold his hands out, to beg for loose change, but the air was too chilly, and soon, his hands
would turn red and tremble with cold. He cursed to himself.
"I wish I woulda kept that damn hat"
The next day,
the man was found dead in front of the local hat store. He died from frostbite and pneumonia. His hands reached towards the
window displaying a hat similar to the one he once owned. The shopkeeper came outside to deliver an order of hats to the local
dramatic theatre. He shook his head, and sighed, for he did not know that this man was dead. As he stepped over the body,
a single hat fell from the box he was carrying. It was a mighty new bowler hat. It was black in color. It fell atop the man's
head and rested there like a bird's nest on the branch of an Oak tree...
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