The Black Fedora

In a bright white room there sat an old man on a wooden chair. He was wearing a black suit and a coat, and on his head rested a black fedora. The old man reached out directly and placed his hand on the white wall in front of him. Anxiety turned to despair. He raised his hands to his head, and there he discovered the black fedora silently resting atop his scalp. He sat up straight and removed the fedora. He analyzed the dark coated material of which it happened to be of wool. On the small black tag near the top of the fedora was imprinted the word “Memoriae” in small white letters. His old eyes could no longer depict the strange markings on the fedora and the symbols were all but nonsense to him.

He placed his head on the palm of his hands, and from the top of his head, a picture gently fell like a feather on the inside of the fedora. The despair on his face shifted into curiosity. He reached into the black fedora and slowly pulled the picture out. As he held the picture in his hands the image appeared to be blurry. The old man closed and wiped his eyes continuously, but the image still appeared to be blurry. In complete silence he rested his eyes as he held the picture in the palm of his hands.

Memories simultaneously revealed themselves in his head and then flowed out to project onto the white walls. Loud laughter filled the bright white room and two figures appeared on the walls. His eyes still shut trying to make sense of what he is remembering, then came a face of joy upon him. He could see that the two figures were of his younger self next to a beautiful young lady laughing hysterically. A cheerful smile formed on the old man’s face; his eyes opened and laid sight on the picture in his palm. The laughing in his head faded away, and the white room grew silent. The images projected on the walls were now gone. The picture in his hands was now visible to him. It was a picture of his memory. In the image he saw himself in his youthful days. So passionate, handsome, and alive. Beside him in the image was Evelyn, the wife of his youth, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He could still hear her laughter all those years later. Her eyes still glistening as he gazed into them. Her smile brought him warmth and peace.

He put his wrinkled finger on Evelyn and slowly moved it around her as if he was feeling her. He admired the brilliance of his wife he once loved but no longer was with him. The old man took interest in her eyes; a face of sadness fell upon him and he began to weep. The picture slowly faded into black and crumbled to ashes.

The feeling of despair came upon him for he knew all had expired from him. The old man erupted with screaming and tears fell from him. The room turned to a dark gray and the walls violently cracked. As the old man was mourning and weeping, he collapsed to the ground along with the black fedora. He laid eyes on the mysterious hat and he took grasp of it. He flipped it around and desperately searched inside the fedora of memories. Numerous pictures came flying out and he dropped the fedora to the ground. The pictures were flying all around him like startled crows.

The old man in all his desperation closed his eyes for a moment. The pictures descended in speed and they began to turn into ashes. In perfect silence the old man rested on the ground. He rose and intently gazed upon the ashes on the ground. The black fedora gently fell to the tip of his feet. He stomped on the fedora with his right foot and walked away. The bright white room, painted with ashes, contained nothing but burnt memories. As the old man was walking, he disappeared into the ashes of despair. Nothing else remains inside that room of decay but only those painful memories which had come from the black fedora.