Come spring it felt odd to see hair once more, so accustomed were we in the wintry season to vivid knitted caps. Still, the warm weather brought the bright colours of the blooms and a jocund foliage of green.
In the fresh-page landscape that was that wintry world, hats were sheepskin with flaps that tied tight over one's ears. Everyone wore one, not a strand of wool nor a bobble in sight.
It was a grey woollen cap that covered my ears with room to spare. I loved it. What more could you want?
I'm not sure why a simple baseball cap rendered him so very handsome, perhaps it brought the focus to his eyes, those deep brown eyes. Yet regardless of the hue the effect was the same. He was hooks in my brain and somehow I was okay with that. Which I guess is just as well, because apparently there is nothing I can do about it anyway.
Her hat was a mid-blue woollen cap, the colour the ocean is in on autumn days late in the afternoon.
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