Green umbrella

Ella walked down the streets umbrella in hand. She had overslept that morning and she couldn’t be late for the interview. It was her dream job, she couldn’t lose that opportunity. She was going to be the new weatherwoman for the leading channel in her city. It had been her dream ever since she was a little girl. And ironically, it was pouring down and the sound of raindrops was echoing on her green umbrella. Tap, tap, tap. Lulled by the soft sound, her thoughts slowly drifted away.

She remembered long afternoons spent sitting inside, wrapped in a blanket and waiting for the rain to stop. She remembered dancing in her yard when she wanted clear cloudless Mondays to turn into stormy Tuesdays and then dancing some more under the downpour, feeling every drop against her skin. As a child she had been captivated by the ever-changing sky, the cotton clouds, the bright sun, the twinkling stars. She would spend hours with her head tilted up or lying on the grass and gazing upwards. She would always wonder what was up there, where the rain came from, if it was cold or warm. She learned some of the answers over the years, but she still liked to invent stories that explained the rain. Those stories helped her cope with everything along the way.

That day, to get rid of stress, she was picturing a city above the clouds, all smoke, rush hours and crowds. It reminded her of cities a hundred years ago, full of factories and workers. Then, a man would empty a bucket of water out of his window, and men and women all over the city would follow suit. And the water would come pouring down through the clouds.

Suddenly, the loudest of honks, the sound of screeching tires, and the green umbrella flew from her hand. She felt the crash in every bone of her body when she fell to the concrete. All sound was muffled away, only the rhythmical tap of raindrops remained. And as pain numbed her body, she smiled because she was staring at the mysterious thin threads of rain.