I had reached halfway to my regular
fedora on the hat rack next to the garage door when Cassie stopped me.
“Aren’t you forgetting?” she said.
I stopped and shrugged. “Force of
habit,” I said. I went back into my bedroom and grabbed the Santa hat from my
dresser. I hesitantly put it on, ready for something to happen. Of course, it
didn’t.
“Looks good on you,” Cassie smiled.
“It feels wrong.”
“It doesn’t fit?”
“No, it’s a perfect fit, like it
was tailor-made for me.”
“Then what?”
“It’s not a fedora. Detectives wear
fedoras.”
Cassie rolled her eyes at me as we
left the house.
“What? It’s a legitimate
complaint.”