A Hipster Scarlet Letter

The following is a re-write of Chapter 17 from Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter:

The warming gleams of sunlight reflected against the D100's ultraviolet filter. Hester saw the outline of the young man's figure, drooping in spirit, immersed in the shade of the evergreen.

"Arthur, Arthur!" Hester cried with a fake British accent. "Come hither and share with me this cup of purified chai tea."

The gloomy face turned towards the distant voice which echoed through the woods.

"Hester dear, is it truly you?" Arthur questioned in a similar faux accent.

"My dear Dimmesdale," she responded, tugging on her vintage scarf, "I must confess. The man Chillingworth was my previous lover." The words quickly escaped her lips as she adjusted her wide-rimmed glasses with anxiety.

"Oh my..." replied Arthur, as he thrust his old Hemmingway novel, the spine tearing slowly, upon his wretched heart.

"My dear, do not fret, our vain attempt at love was as hopeless as those superficial posers. I repudiate my previous marriage. Our love is different; it was inevitable. Our sin of passion should not be forbidden."

Arthur's feather-like curls brushed against his cheek."I should have known. The second he stepped through my hickory door, the sweet perfume of romantic wishes escaped the windows and a moist, murky smell settled."

"Please forgive me. You can yet escape the torture he brings upon you."

"But how could I leave? Why? To read my novels in the drizzling rain, sip on my fair trade coffee... alone?"

"Yet I love sitting in the warmth of cafes as well."