The mid-morning sun beating down on you, beating the hope out of you, you’re coiled in the sand like an orphaned baby seal. Your one symbol of companionship, the sound of chains dancing beyond the tropical thicket, is waning. Your tan must be so even and no one is around to be jealous of it. What a waste. Marooned on a beach or so you assume—being marooned infers someone abandoned you, which you cannot confirm. That thought is so deep and dark, it’s almost freeing; a new slate, a blank start. You’ve come out the other side of nihilism in about ten seconds because you’re essentially an optimist. You are invigorated to begin your new life on this uncharted beach. However, the sun is way harsh and to be honest, you need a hat. As you look up at the entropic sun, images of your favorite and versatile hat flash before your eyes.
69’s Sun Block Hat was your favorite way to hide while showing off. You have a God-given gift of being able to pull off any hat and you have never wasted your talents.
You realize your favorite things were used as mechanisms to push people away. You must have struggled to connect with people in your past life.
Onomatopoeia! The chains are louder and closer than ever before and they have interrupted your illuminating flashback! Your curiosity reels you in closer toward the threshold of the irresistible woods. You sense your fate is unknown to you, realizing this is a familiar feeling, and you recall that your fate unknown has always been.