Red Umbrella

Streetlights danced, reflecting in the watery glass drizzling into puddles underfoot, paled only in comparison to the twinkle in their gaze. Their red umbrella shared, set them apart from the drab grays of the day. Warm smiles, she pulled herself closer into the shelter of his arm, their banter jovial. Pausing on the corner, their lips folded into each other. Two became one, as they pressed into each other.

Like a stream bending around immovable rocks, passer-bys flowed around them. Whispered words passed between them, inaudible as he drew close to her ear, and thunder echoed off the walls of the city.

The stars dimmed, their flames snuffed and her eyes added their salt to the hard, wet curb. Horns blared as she dashed into their slow stampede, escaping to farther shores, losing herself in the crowded sea of faces.

Stoic statue, he watches her flee, then turns, retreating, his red umbrella bobbing along into the blackest of nights. His eyes, the only dry land in an otherwise dreary scene.

What were the words that made their world turn? What tension tore them apart rather than face it together?

Honesty creates opportunity for intimacy, but only when we are ready to hear.

Coffee warms me. Another sip, a touch on the hand, breaks the spell of the scene out the storefront window. Hands clasp, the look in her smile. Small blessings, sheltered inside, away from the storm.