the woman with the blue umbrella (installment 2)
She stared off dreamily, not really in line at the bank, but somewhere else entirely. Her vacant half-smile broke when she heard him coming. He was covered in water, and his hair was hanging in strings in his forehead. She noticed his tie, almost the same blue as her umbrella.
"Your umbrella," the man stumbled.
She looked down at her umbrella self-consciously. "What about it?" she asked warily.
The man stopped, then slowly took in a breath and began to speak. "Do you ever have the feeling that you wake up everyday and take a shower and get dressed and comb your hair and go to work and come home again? Do you ever feel like you're stuck on an endless loop of staying lates and social gatherings and bank runs and errands?" He took her hand and looking directly into her eyes said, "Do you ever feel like you want to break out of that loop, but you don't know how?"
She stepped back, frightened. "I don't know who you are, but I'm just visiting the bank. I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else."
He persisted. "But what about your umbrella? It's blue, in a sea of black. It's beautiful. I--"
Getting flustered, she raised her voice slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've had this umbrella forever and I...I don't know what you're talking about." People began to stare. "Furthermore, I'd like to be able to go to the bank without having men hit on me!"
"Hitting on you? No, I don't think you understand. I was just..." He looked around at the bank patrons, staring at him with a look of bemusement and annoyance. He looked at the woman with the blue umbrella. "You're right, I do have the wrong person.' He walked to the street, and back to his apartment. He changed his shirt and put on a jacket and got his black umbrella from the shelf. He drove his car to work and lived out his day as he had the day before, with no unexpected turbulence.
***
She watched him go, and when he fell from sight, she was glad of it. Men would do anything to pick a girl up, wouldn't they? Who did he think he was, talking about living a life on loop like that? Did he think that she was going to take him seriously for a minute? And what business of his was it if she was living on loop?
She walked back from the bank, slightly skipping. He may have been on a loop, but she certainly wasn't. No one was going to tell her that she needed to change. Why did everyone meet you, then try to make you "better"? She paused and looked up at her umbrella. Smiling, she gave it to the first umbrella-less person she saw and walked toward home in the rain, humming to herself.
She stopped at the coffee shop like she often did and sat on the worn, inviting couches. She pulled out her book, sipped on coffee and read as the people on the street rushed by. She slowly closed out the world around her, and nestled into her pocket with her book.
The coffee vendors paid no attention to her, for she would often sit here all day on her days off from work, reading. The day passed, and she progressed through her book. The lunch rush came in, then the evening rush. She worked through her book, nestled deeper into her own little pocket, and turned page after page. Suddenly, she put her book down and looked at it in surprise. Living life on a loop...
To Be Continued...
"Your umbrella," the man stumbled.
She looked down at her umbrella self-consciously. "What about it?" she asked warily.
The man stopped, then slowly took in a breath and began to speak. "Do you ever have the feeling that you wake up everyday and take a shower and get dressed and comb your hair and go to work and come home again? Do you ever feel like you're stuck on an endless loop of staying lates and social gatherings and bank runs and errands?" He took her hand and looking directly into her eyes said, "Do you ever feel like you want to break out of that loop, but you don't know how?"
She stepped back, frightened. "I don't know who you are, but I'm just visiting the bank. I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else."
He persisted. "But what about your umbrella? It's blue, in a sea of black. It's beautiful. I--"
Getting flustered, she raised her voice slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've had this umbrella forever and I...I don't know what you're talking about." People began to stare. "Furthermore, I'd like to be able to go to the bank without having men hit on me!"
"Hitting on you? No, I don't think you understand. I was just..." He looked around at the bank patrons, staring at him with a look of bemusement and annoyance. He looked at the woman with the blue umbrella. "You're right, I do have the wrong person.' He walked to the street, and back to his apartment. He changed his shirt and put on a jacket and got his black umbrella from the shelf. He drove his car to work and lived out his day as he had the day before, with no unexpected turbulence.
***
She watched him go, and when he fell from sight, she was glad of it. Men would do anything to pick a girl up, wouldn't they? Who did he think he was, talking about living a life on loop like that? Did he think that she was going to take him seriously for a minute? And what business of his was it if she was living on loop?
She walked back from the bank, slightly skipping. He may have been on a loop, but she certainly wasn't. No one was going to tell her that she needed to change. Why did everyone meet you, then try to make you "better"? She paused and looked up at her umbrella. Smiling, she gave it to the first umbrella-less person she saw and walked toward home in the rain, humming to herself.
She stopped at the coffee shop like she often did and sat on the worn, inviting couches. She pulled out her book, sipped on coffee and read as the people on the street rushed by. She slowly closed out the world around her, and nestled into her pocket with her book.
The coffee vendors paid no attention to her, for she would often sit here all day on her days off from work, reading. The day passed, and she progressed through her book. The lunch rush came in, then the evening rush. She worked through her book, nestled deeper into her own little pocket, and turned page after page. Suddenly, she put her book down and looked at it in surprise. Living life on a loop...
To Be Continued...