![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: Still Full of Promise
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: G
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: June
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~220
Summary: A fill from the prompt “June - Hat” provided bycrystalshard from the One - Two - Three Word Promptfest held back in mid-July
She fingers the soft felt of the very last hat that Byron had bought – sometime in early 1961. It wasn't black, but a soft gunmetal gray with a wide silver ribbon. When he bought it – in advance of the spring season, the trilby was the height of fashion, favored by celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, as well as politicians and world leaders. But the world changed on one bright January afternoon when a handsome young president walked down Pennsylvania Avenue with his charming, elegant wife at his side and his head bare.
Men’s hats immediately fell from fashion and Byron was nothing if not fashionable. And so, this beautiful thing was never worn. It sat in its box in the guestroom closet, protected from time and moths and memories.
June brushes her fingers over the brim and touches the ribbon. It should have been the first thing she took to the thrift store, but it was destined never to be worn. This was the one item of Byron's wardrobe that she hasn't given to Neal - and she can't explain why. Maybe because in its unworn state, it is still full of promise, of potential and when she holds it so gently, she can still see her beloved, his wry smile, his sparkling eyes and she can still dream.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: G
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: June
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~220
Summary: A fill from the prompt “June - Hat” provided by
crystalshard from the One - Two - Three Word Promptfest held back in mid-July ______________________________________________
She fingers the soft felt of the very last hat that Byron had bought – sometime in early 1961. It wasn't black, but a soft gunmetal gray with a wide silver ribbon. When he bought it – in advance of the spring season, the trilby was the height of fashion, favored by celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, as well as politicians and world leaders. But the world changed on one bright January afternoon when a handsome young president walked down Pennsylvania Avenue with his charming, elegant wife at his side and his head bare.
Men’s hats immediately fell from fashion and Byron was nothing if not fashionable. And so, this beautiful thing was never worn. It sat in its box in the guestroom closet, protected from time and moths and memories.
June brushes her fingers over the brim and touches the ribbon. It should have been the first thing she took to the thrift store, but it was destined never to be worn. This was the one item of Byron's wardrobe that she hasn't given to Neal - and she can't explain why. Maybe because in its unworn state, it is still full of promise, of potential and when she holds it so gently, she can still see her beloved, his wry smile, his sparkling eyes and she can still dream.
FIN
