Geraldine Borrowed My Hat.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. The white one, with the floppy rim and the little flowers stitched into it with silver thread. It had some vague sentimental value, but I never wore it much. I was glad to lend it to her. She asked so sweetly, and I was only too happy to oblige. She needed it for an event on the weekend.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. She said she would give it back to me on Monday. She was excited and she loved me and she hugged me and said she would show me all the lovely photographs she would be taking at the event. I didn’t have an event on the weekend so I didn’t need my hat.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. She said it was just the perfect, the most perfect, perfect thing she could think of to go with her outfit. She was so grateful to me for letting her borrow it. I was pleased that I owned the hat so that I could lend it to her and make her so happy. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were twinkly and her smile was wide and bright. She was happy because I let her borrow my hat and because she was going to an event on the weekend. With my hat.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. On the Monday after the event, she didn’t bring my hat to work. She apologised and thanked me again and said that she promised she would bring it on Tuesday. It must have slipped her mind. After all the excitement of the event, she had forgotten it at home. Of course I forgave her. Her face was glowing when she told me all about her weekend and the event. She said she would bring photographs. On Tuesday. With the hat.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. On Tuesday, she brought photographs from the event, but she didn’t bring my hat. Her bag was too full today, she said. She couldn’t fit the hat in. She would bring it tomorrow. She showed me her photographs from the event. My hat was in many of the photographs, with its floppy rim and its silver flowers. Sometimes it was on her head. Sometimes it was in her hand. Sometimes it was on a table in the background or the foreground. In one photograph, it was on somebody else’s head. It didn’t suit him very much.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. Weeks passed and she kept forgetting to give it back until I stopped asking and she stopped mentioning it. I didn’t want to nag. After all, I hardly wore the hat. But it did have some vague sentimental value and it was my favourite. It was the only hat I ever owned. I thought that it was bound to come up in conversation soon enough. Then I could ask for it back and it wouldn’t be awkward. I wondered if she had worn it to any other events. Unlike me, Geraldine had many events on weekends and sometimes during the week too.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. Months passed and I was sure that she had forgotten about it. But I thought that she would remember, eventually, and bring it back. One day we planned our own event for the weekend. It wasn’t like Geraldine’s other event, which involved men and drinks with ice cubes and ash trays full of half-smoked cigarettes and bowls of stale nuts. Our event was a hike. Geraldine said she needed to hike to keep in shape. I thought perhaps I should ask for my hat, to protect me from the sun on the hike. But then I was scared that Geraldine would be embarrassed and apologetic and I didn’t want that, so I didn’t ask her.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. We went for a hike and the sun burned our noses and I thought the hat would’ve come in handy, even if it had been Geraldine wearing it and not me. At least then there would be only one burnt nose and not two of them. But she hadn’t brought the hat along and I chose not to mention it and we walked up a mountain path without the hat. Geraldine walked in front of me. She had smooth legs. They were a healthy colour and she had a fine silver chain around her left ankle. I thought that she was very pretty and perhaps my hat had looked better on her than it ever did on me.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. On the day that we went hiking, the sun was very hot and the sky was very blue and far below us, all around, we could see the city and it was beautiful except that I couldn’t really appreciate it because all I could think about was my hat and how much I would like to be wearing it so that the sun wouldn’t burn my nose. Geraldine and I stood at the edge of the mountain looking down at the city and I noticed a white streak on the side of her nose where she had applied sunscreen but hadn’t rubbed it in properly. And then I pushed her off the edge and she fell a very long way down and landed on some rocks.

Geraldine borrowed my hat. I never got it back.

(Please don’t ask. Just forgive me. I’m suffering from sleep deprivation. I don’t know why I wrote this and I have even less of clue as to why I’m posting it in my blog.)

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10 thoughts on “Geraldine Borrowed My Hat.

  1. ^_^ I was waiting for the hat to be murdered, like you’d be shuffling through the pictures, and find your crime scene – hat, stabbed. Spilt sparberry sparletta. Later, chalked outlines and taped off areas. Geralide the hat murderer.

  2. laurie!! wow ! i read through this whole thing (well so far up until geraldine borrowed my hat – i’m gonna read the rest now) and i had no idea it was you! i just found you on jess’s blog!
    wow wow wow!!! enjoyed so much!

    • THANK YOU SO MUCH! I see you have a blog too! It looks fantastic! Shall be devouring some of your writings now too! 😀 The few lines I have read already I LOVE! Thanks for this comment! 🙂

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