The Pink Umbrella

By Emily Stewart

“The rain sure is cold today,” those were the first words she had said to me all day. She
didn’t look at me, just stared at the street before us. And I couldn’t even respond. Not
once did I say anything to her from my sitting position on the sidewalk. Her hands shook
slightly, clutching the umbrella. She didn’t say anything for a while. Just held the
umbrella over the two of us, even though we were already soaked.

Cars passed us, shining their headlights on the dark road in front of them. And every
now and then. Light would land on us, making the dryish circle we were in look pink.
Heck, even our skin would glow with the color. Though, it looked good on her.

The umbrella started to spin, making it seem as though it’s flowery pattern were dancing.
A sigh escaped her lips and her eyes closed, shielding her from the world around us.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she mumbled, refusing to lift her head to look me in the eye.

The passing cars seemed more interesting at this point as she kept apologizing. I wanted
to say it was fine, I wanted to go back to how things were before, but I couldn’t. I can’t
erase what happened, and I can’t forget it either. Water dripped down onto me, invading
the circle that was dryer then everything else around it.

Her eyes finally met mine when I took her umbrella, holding it steady above our heads.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around me. Wrapping my free
arm around her, I let her take what little warmth was left in my body. Staring out beyond
the street, I watched the rain get heavier and heavier. Soon, my heart felt just as cold as
the rain.