The Man With An Umbrella

“He’s been there for quite a while now.”

You try to pretend you didn’t hear me. You fail miserably.

“Oh?”

“He was already there when I woke up.”

You straighten up.

I’ve been awake since five.

“You should talk to him.” I say, staring at you pointedly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“He won’t stand out there for three hours if there’s really nothing.”

I say nothing more, casting one last glance outside the window, at that man with her white umbrella standing out there before I walk away.

A smile crosses my lips when the door opens and closes.

Image credits to oxp0q @ minus