The red hat sat headless on the sand. A low cunning breeze pierced the open bright weave but the hat sat. Still. Uncaring. Secretly encircling the scent of an evening past.

He glared at it, sitting high on the dune, a furnace glow against bleached dead sand. Spiked dry grass kept rigid sentinel, encircling, a fragile Stonehenge. He wanted to rescue it from its loneliness or was it his own separation he was thinking about? He would like its memories. If he put the hat on, would it share its past? He wanted to grab it and jam it on his head before the presence it held could escape.
The brim of the red hat shivered suddenly, waving he thought, calling him over, responding. He swivelled, scanned the empty shore then sprinted up the dunes before he could change his mind. He rammed it on his head thoughtlessly, in case sense intercepted. It fitted perfectly. Warm, right. He gently bent his head in an oriental bow, thanking the day for this gift.

He strode up the beach highway, hugging the water’s left hand lane, knowing he looked totally ridiculous in this tall, red , woman’s hat, but beastly careless and nonchalant almost, a rare freedom filling and lifting him. He felt bold, quite daring and looked deep into the horizon, hoping there was a sea dragon to slay today.

…………Thank you to AllyL’s ‘Headless’ for the inspiration

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