Death of a Hipster

Hopping off the L train at Bedford Avenue, he was greeted with vegan ice cream trucks, overpriced delis, and a shop full of antique mirrors.  Yoga mat in hand, Harold started down the street to his untimely demise.  There was a crowd gathered around the door to the fancy hat shop just across the street.  The four-man jazz band that used to play on the corner was now inside the tiny storefront in sunglasses and fresh hats, entertaining visitors and paying customers.  He walked into the store, noting that he only had about 15 minutes before his class started around the corner. 

            The silver bell above the glass door rang as the cashier called out to welcome me over the musicians.  The walls were lined with hats, none less than forty dollars.  From flat caps to floppy hats they had it all, but he had his eye on the linen cadet in the window display.  He made his rounds around the store�"it was no more than fifteen feet wide, so it didn’t take much time at all.  He circled the stand that the hat rested on, examining the stitching and labels of other headwear before finally picking up his cap.  He looked back at the man behind the register who was calming down a pair of men who had begun cursing at each other about wearing socks with boat shoes.   Harold brushed the hairs of his mustache to the side before clutching the hat to his chest under his unbuttoned cuffed flannel.  He took a few steps towards the door and grabbed on to the brass handle.

            “Hey!” the double bassist called, holding his stringed instrument away from his body.  The music droned on in the background.  “What d’ya got there?”  Harold pulled open the door, and tightened his grip on the accessory.  As the familiar bell dinged, someone had firm hold on his blonde ponytail before he could set foot on the sidewalk.  The band member jerked the twenty-something year old backwards, who stumbled to the ground. His bag and yoga mat were flung under the nearby product table.   “I was talking to you,” he said closing the door.  The hat was now on the floor and the music stopped as Harold looked between the musician and his prize. 

            Harold leapt at the cadet hat and sprawled out onto the wooden floor, stuffing it into his pocket.  He got to his feet and fumbled with the handle before making it out the door.  The bassist just missed the arm of the escaping man.  He grabbed a nearby bowler hat and threw it to the ground.  He cursed as he grabbed the yoga mat off the floor and ran out of the store after the thief.   Harold stepped off the curb a few paces ahead of his pursuer.  The bassist threw the rolled rubber pad at the escapee who stepped off the concrete into the asphalt of the street.  A bicyclist sped down the lane, knocking the fugitive to the pavement.