One hat was really nice and gray, and I saw it in the street behind me after I heard someone grunt, just in time to see a car drive over it and then have it disappear from view.
The other hat belonged to a very young girl who was on the back seat of a bike being driven by her dad, or possibly grandfather. I picked up the hat and gave it to the dad, and he was thankful. But what I remember the most was the little girl’s cries of “Daddy! Daddy!” In her voice I could hear that she loved that neon pink and green hat and that it would tear her heart apart to lose it. It reminded me of my little sister and my eyes got watery on the way home. The little girl looked back at me for a brief moment and I wondered if she would remember it in the years to come — the time some weird foreigner rescued her beloved hat.
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