"I'm freezing," the hat thought, shivering under the pile of cold, wet leaves. "I can't believe he forgot me!" The hat pouted under the leaves until he remembered that Douglas had been hurt. "I sure hope he is okay." The hat began to worry.
It felt like years had passed since the hat had seen a stream of sunshine peeking through the leaves above him. Now, every day was cloudy and cold. Maybe something had happened to Douglas, and that was why the hat had been forgotten.
As fearful thoughts went through his mind, the hat became sad. "What if he had to stay in the hospital? What if something worse happened?"
Suddenly, the hat heard a "scrape, scrape, scrape" and muffled voices saying something about a "rake."
Then he felt a sharp tip of metal poking him.
"Ow!" he cried. He only wished humans could hear his thoughts. A sharp tine grabbed the hat and pulled him out from under the smothering leaves.
"What's this?" the hat heard a deep voice say. "Oh, dear! This is Douglas's hat; it must have lain here ever since Thanksgiving!"
"You'd better believe it, mister," the hat said to himself as the man picked him up and dusted him off.