And sometimes fate makes bargains with the devil

She told him what she was wearing that day,
A blue hat with white polka dots“, she said.
He searched for her in the festival.
Blue hat, white dots“, he repeated over and over again.
No one that day wore blue, nor did he see any white dots anywhere – if you exclude the dots he saw when he looked up straight at the sun that was held in the blue sky.
Was her blue different from my blue?
Or did she know she was my world, and the sky was what she referred to as her hat?
He never knew the answers regarding the girl who had her hat stolen and was sitting just behind him.

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