Esther Aria

There’s this town. I guess, the only way to describe it is as being somewhere far, far away. It’s small. The kind of town that isn’t marked by a road sign or anything if you’re traveling. The kind of town most people just, pass by. But—as it normally goes—to the people living within its borders, this little town is the world.

In it, there are houses filled with families, streets lined with stores, a post office, a fire station, a library, the Mayor’s office, a school. The people there go to work, pay their bills, laugh with friends, and go home to sleep in their beds every night. A nice normal little town…

Of course. There is one thing that isn’t quite so normal. In this town, every single person, big or small, young or old, boy or girl, wears a top hat. All day. Every day.

Now. Let me get one thing straight. The story I’m about to tell you, it isn’t some fairy tale. Every detail of it is true. I should know. I was there. Avera was my world. My name’s Ruth, for what it’s worth, and I have a story of how these hats dictated the lives of the people of Avera. Because you see, what we wear, they’re not just hats. They’re your life on display for everyone to see. The hat is a symbol of every wrong thing you’ve done in your life. The taller your hat, the more mistakes you’ve made. And every single person knows it. I mean, it’s not really something you’d point out to someone’s face. More something that’s discussed behind their back. The hats influenced your life. In many ways the hats were your life. A summary of it anyways. A summary of all of your wrongs, your mistakes and, really, that’s how most people evaluate their lives anyways, right?

But this story isn’t just about the hats. It’s about a girl I knew. A girl whose life was more affected by the hats than anyone. Her name is Mia. And she wore the tallest top hat in Avera.