raining liberation

May 4, 2009

rain me free

She parked the car on a side street and the three of us spilled out of it, locking locks and slamming car doors in our wake.

As we collected ourselves on the sidewalk, another car paused mid-street in the space next to us. A girl who stood near us with a broken umbrella over-protecting her from the barely rain reached for the car handle and attempted to stuff herself and her stretched-too-high rain equipment inside. She began to reshape the open car into closed but her arm barricaded her intent, extended above the door boundaries with the curved umbrella handle gripped still in her hand.

“This umbrella is a joke,” she announced to the dark, wet sky and let go of everything that held her back.

She threw the umbrella and sped off in the car while the quick reflexes of the wind caught it and carried it for a moment. The wind soon considered the contents of its grip equally as useless, and everyone walked away with the broken umbrella abandoned to the middle of an empty street.  

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