Milliner
“Welcome. Welcome,” said the man with the toothless grin. “Welcome to Mashinko’s Hat Shop.” Three hats wobbled dangerously on his head.
The first was a wide-brimmed sun hat, the second a knit cap that had some sort of rigidness, and the third a paper party hat.
“Are you Mashinko?” I asked.
“Yes. Today.”
The enigmatic answer threw me for a loop. Mashinko took the opportunity to slip around his counter and walk up to me. The store went back into dim light as rows and rows of fuzzy brown hats and Stetsons stretched on. Turbans and Chinese caps mingled freely with Yakamas. There was no people who would be left in the lurch here.
“So,” Mashinko asked in a long, drawn-out way, “what are you looking for today.”
Sheepishly, I held up a bag.
Mashinko regarded the bag shrewdly. I could see the wheels turning. “You want me to make the bag into a hat?”
That hung in the air between us. I think both of us were caught off guard by what he had just said.
“Erm…nooooo…” I pulled a cowboy hat out of the bag and handed it to him. “I was hoping I could return this”
His affable smile turned into a frown quickly. “What is wrong with Mashinko’s hat?”
“Nothing. It is a great hat. It’s just…”
Machinko stared into the depths of my soul. I looked away, needing anything else to look at.
“Nothing is wrong with the hat?”
“No, apart from the lettering on the back.”
Machinko flipped the hat, revealing the words in bright orange letters. “Sexy Beast.” I hadn’t seen the back when I had bought the hat.
“So what? You are a Sexy Beast.” His tone was casual, as if he said that every day.
“I needed a hat for my sister’s wedding.”
“Good,” he said with finality. “Tell you what, if you don’t like the hat, I’ll make the bag into a hat as an apology.”
“But…”
“Trust Machinko.”
Oddly, I did. I put the hat back on, a sense of confidence settling on me.
