Ok, this is the last one. The last Odd Habit. I'll miss 'em. It's about Jack's red hat thingy, which is something from Indian culture called a kaftan.

He woke up every morning and redid his kaftan. No one ever asked why he wore it. He never told anyone. It was his little quirk, or so thought everyone. But to Jack, it had a symbol.

When he went to India, he'd escaped being eaten alive by the English by one day. Sometimes he hated his own kind. They were like monsters, eating everything in sight, wanting nothing but control and power.

He'd helped to formulate a plan for them to avoid being slaughtered; he knew his own kind. They'd leave no rebels standing.

Then, one day before he'd been gifted a boat, he'd seen a woman, a good friend, wrapping a red cloth around her head. He'd wondered why she was covering up her lovely black curls in cloth. He'd snuck up behind her and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. He knew he was lucky to be allowed that. The Indians were conservative about public romances and eating meat. Everything else, they were Jack's type of people.

She's blushed under her golden-bronze skin and turned around. He'd asked her why she did that, innocently, as if nothing had happened.

She'd replied, It's traditionally a symbol men wear before they go to war. It shows that they go of their own free will. It shows, here she hesitated, that they're not afraid to die.

Jack was chilled by the seriousness of her voice. But, he'd asked, hesitating himself, you're not going to die, are you?

Jack, she replied, it is the natural course of life. I might. For a moment, Jack's heart had stopped. He couldn't imagine life without her.

No, you can't die. I won't let you. I'll take you with me, out on the open seas. We'll be together forever. You can't die. I won't let you. I won't know what to do.

She'd just laughed sadly. You can't do anything to stop me from dying. I'd love to come out on the ocean with you, but I must stay and defend our country.

Let the men-folk do that. Jack had replied.

See? That's the attitude of your people. In my home, all are equal. We will fight together, we will die together. We are not fragile. We will not be indebted to them. We are equal.

But, He'd paused, not knowing if he should, I love you. And as those words left his lips, her eyes glazed over and her lips spread in a smile of euphoria, surprised pleasure.

Jack, I love you too. I will love you till the end of time, whether or not we meet again. And for the first and last time, she kissed him softly on the lips. Jacks eyes closed, wanting to remember her forever, but he knew there was no other way. She would stay and he would leave. And India was a big place. He might never find her again. He hugged her and held her tight; as if the harder he squeezed her, the longer he could stay.

Come, she had whispered, voice thick with emotion, my papa has something to give you…

For a fleeting moment, he wished her father would give him permission to marry her but… He was soon presented with a boat and was due to leave the next morning.

The next day morning, she drew him aside and gave him her kaftan. It is yours Jack, my heart will be with you forever, and you should wear this. You are a brave man. You are not afraid to die. Show it. Be proud. And live forever, my love. Before she vanished in the crowd of hustle and bustle of preparations for war. As he was to set off, he looked for her, hoping she would wave, but he knew deep in his heart that she wouldn't be there. And that day itself, he tied the kaftan on and rarely ever took it off. It was his souvenir of his first and probably last love.

Ok. Don't kill me. I know I'm waaay off track, but the idea of a foreign romance enticed me. It just sounded so exotic. The kaftan is really Indian, and so are the meanings. And Kohl too. Yeah. It really sounds so much more intimate. You know? I know, I'm very off beaten track, but I'm okay with it. Besides, it gives potential for a new story, right? R&R!!!