Sorry for the poor quality, but look what my wife got me today!
It was the hat. Put on a man’s hat, surround your mind with his way of thinking, and it changed you. A man in dock worker’s clothing passed by, shoulders slumped, whistling a sad tune. Wayne picked up the melody. Rough life, that was, working the docks. You had to commute each day on the canal boats—either that, or find a bed out near the waterfront, where you were about as likely to get stabbed as have breakfast. He’d lived that life as a youth. Had the scars to prove it, he did. But as a chap grew, he wanted more to his days than a fight on every corner and women who couldn’t remember his name one day to the next.
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