Umbrella

I'm sitting there in the rain, getting soaked, all cold and wet, waiting for a bus. It's such a miserable feeling and the worst part is that it's just the bus to school so I'll be like this for the rest of the day. I'm just you're average high school girl but I feel like I get a lot of abuse from Mother Nature and luck in general. Most people get driven to school or at least have bus shelters but I'm stuck at the one stop that doesn't. I could tell already that today was going to be one of those days. Sigh...

I just stand there leaning on the bus post staring miserably at the ground, wanting it to be over. But then I feel a strange presence fill the air and a kind of warmth that I couldn't describe. I notice that I wasn't getting wet anymore and see someone next to me.

"You look like you could use an umbrella." He said with a warm smile. It made my day, and the atmosphere really shifted and started to lose all of its negativity. The bus eventually comes after being really late and we both just find seats and go on with our lives like nothing happened. I tend to sit near the front of the bus but I turn and look at him as he walks to the back of the bus. I didn't notice it before but his umbrella was a simple, plain white.

I go to art class as per usual and sit at my usual desk. "I have an announcement." The teacher says getting everyone's attention. "We have a new student joining our class." She says and to my surprise it was the boy I met this morning. I didn't really picture him as an art student though. He introduces himself and finds a seat next to me.

We all start working on our drawings. I looked up and noticed that he was staring at my picture. He turned away looking nervous and I looked at his page to see it was completely blank.

"Don't you know what you want to draw?" I ask him.

His look told me instantly that I was right. I looked back at my work. "My work probably isn't a good example if you're out of ideas. It's best to draw something that you've seen that has significance, like a landscape or a scene of some sort. Mine tend to just be random colours, shades and squiggles that don't seem to have any purpose. If you're new to something then I think it's best to start off with what you know." I say to him. I hoped it was good advice but I can never tell because art is something you just kind of do without thinking or analysing it too much, or at least that's how I do it. The class finishes and his page was still blank. It made me wonder why he even chose to do art to begin with. I couldn't see any sort of passion about it in him.

He would always be looking at my pictures. One day he started drawing so I figured he decided on what to do but it still made me wonder why he was always looking at mine still. Could he really like my drawings that much? Eventually my curiousity took over and I looked at his picture. It was the sky and clouds. It was very nice and dreamy, and not something I expected him to draw.

He wasn't in any of my other classes so I never really saw him much. In art class he would come up with some pretty amazing pictures though, but not of things you'd expect people to draw about. His next one was like the opposite of his last one and rather than being of the sky it was a picture of the ground. It was just a picture of the foot path next to a road on a rainy day. It had puddles in it and showed part of a person in it but was looking straight down at the ground from an angle that couldn't have been from the person if they were simply walking along in the rain. I don't know how he did it but his picture was beautiful. It had a really unique feel to it due to how strange the angle and focus of the picture was but also had a both magical and realistic feel to it. It was a mix of the kind of sparkles in the puddle and beauty of the rain along with the normal everyday life feel of it that really made his work a masterpiece.

When I first met him he looked like a lost puppy that had no idea of what he was doing but the pictures he could draw make him come across as a professional. I could never figure him out because even now I still see him as a lost puppy who doesn't understand much of the world. He really was a strange person.

Days passed by and the rain kept on coming but he would always be there for me with his plain white umbrella and warm smile. Surprisingly, one day I saw him walking back from P.E with one of my friends, or rather it looked more like he was tagging along as she walked back. He went off to one of his other classes and I met up with her to walk to our English class.

"You make a new friend?"

"Nah, he just tends to follow me around. I'm not sure why though."

"Yeah he is a bit strange and doesn't seem to talk much. So how was practice then, I mean, it's been raining pretty hard today so was it cancelled or something?"

"Nah, we don't let something like a little rain stop us from practicing, or at least that's what I'd like to say. In all honesty, most people didn't show up or are just waiting around chatting under their umbrellas, but surprisingly that guy who was following me didn't seem to care that it was raining."

"Didn't he bring his umbrella?" I asked her.

"I don't think he even has one, I never see him with one. Like I said, the rain doesn't seem to bother him. He doesn't seem enthusiastic about sport or anything either though. I don't get why he's even there most of the time."

******

Where am I?

What happened to me?

Why aren't I...?

How did this happen to me?

I find myself in a bedroom, which appeared to be mine. I wasn't sure why but I seemed to already know the basics of how this life works. I get dressed and walk to a bus stop near my house. I brought an umbrella with me, although I wasn't sure why. It was raining pretty hard but it wasn't until I saw the bus stop up a head that I realised that I should open up my umbrella. I see a girl there who seemed sad and miserable. I go up to her and do the only thing I know how to do.

"You look like you could use an umbrella."

Art. It's such a strange thing. I didn't understand what it was meant to be, nor its purpose. I wasn't sure why I was in an art class but I go there anyway. I find myself in a seat next to the girl I met at the bus stop. I watch her as she draws her picture, using different colours and shades and drawing different lines and shapes all over her page. She seemed happy, and the art had such feeling in it, or something that I couldn't describe. It was a very pleasant picture. I could only watch in awe as she went about doing this thing called art.

She noticed me looking at her and I turn away instinctively. I'm not sure why but it seemed like the appropriate reaction. She started talking to me. I think she asked me something too. Was I meant to be drawing? What do I draw though? I don't get what art is. But as if answering my question I hear the last thing she says to me.

"It's best to start off with what you already know."

That phrase got stuck in my head. The next art class I felt a new sensation comes over me and I start drawing lines and shapes on my piece of paper. I wasn't sure what I was drawing but somehow continued to bring colour and life to my page. It was like I had been taken over by this strange sensation and finally began to understand what art truly is. It was such a wonderful feeling and I began to feel some life in me. But then I was finished. A moment ago I was staring at a blank piece of paper but now before me I saw beauty in the form of art.

******

He seemed to really like drawing and becomes a completely different person when doing so. It's like when he finishes he wakes up to the real world that we actually live in. Art really is amazing. People don't realise how art is like its own world. But what I couldn't understand was how he chooses what he draws. They all have some kind of underlying significance and connection but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. He draws pictures of the different seasons. He makes the snow so beautiful, like the rain. His most recent picture was of a beautiful, spring day with the flowers blooming and that wonderful spring atmosphere all around. It had a hint of sadness in it though which I didn't notice at first. It made me realise that it was meant to be a sad picture because even though it's showing a beautiful day and time of year the point of view is from inside, looking out a window wishing that they could be a part of it. It's like there's a beautiful world out there that they never get to experience. And it was the story that this picture told that really gave it its beauty.

It started to snow again, which I was kind of glad about now that it had stopped raining but it meant that it was going to get really cold. I didn't mind as much as usual though, because I felt like I had finally connected with him. Before he was just an acquaintance or the guy I sat next to but somehow I feel like now he's become like a friend to me. We don't really even talk much but we would always see each others art and that's how I feel we truly connected.

Art is like its own world and it's like it's the only place where you can truly connect with someone like him. Since we lived so close to each other I would invite him over to my house and we would draw pictures together in front of the warm fireplace. I don't know what it was about him but he has a kind of warmth about him that makes me want to be with him through the cold of the winter. It wasn't even the art this time; it was simply being with him.

Once he left I would always feel different. It's one of those things that you don't realise how significant it is until it's gone. I no longer had that atmosphere around me that he seemed to bring with him. It was such a strange feeling but the only word that came to mind is that I felt trapped, and I wasn't sure why. I looked out the window through all the snow as it was pilling down. It's not like I was trapped but more that it simply wouldn't be the same. He really is a curious one, and I think that's why I'm so drawn to him.

But then spring came. The snow went away, the sun came out and the flowers came out of hiding. I usually love spring but it felt different this time. It wasn't the same as it was before with him. He started acting different to how he was before. He found it hard to draw again like when we first met. I still liked being with him but it felt more like he was just there in the background and didn't really have much significance anymore. But what was the most different about him was his atmosphere. I wasn't sure how to describe it but it was like spring wasn't meant for him. The days felt longer and spring went by a lot slower than winter did. Spring seemed like the perfect season for art but for some reason I could never get in the mood for it either. Since we had nothing to do we would just watch as my friend and her team would play sports. It wasn't the season for art, or at least our kind of art. They looked like they were having so much fun, doing their thing. I guess this is like how it felt for them when it was winter.

"It's kind of strange how we can't seem to draw as well in spring. I thought that spring was meant to show beauty and would be perfect for it." I said to him thinking out loud.

"Yeah it's not what I expected either. I guess it's too peaceful." He replied.

"Too peaceful? Isn't it the peacefulness that makes it so beautiful?"

"The peace is boring. It's the struggle that brings out the story. During spring not much is needed."

He doesn't usually talk much but when he does he seemed to say something strange, but interesting. I felt like he was looking at it the wrong way, but this perspective still seems to suit him in a way. It still felt a bit negative though. Life isn't just overcoming the hardships in life it's also about appreciating the good. It's a strange side to be on though. I wonder what his story is.

Summer comes. It gets way too hot to do anything but for some reason it doesn't seem to affect him. First the rain, now the heat. He starts drawing again. I look at what he's drawing and even though he's probably around half way through I still couldn't tell what it was. It' was too hot to even think though, so we all just lie with our heads on our desks complaining about the heat and waiting for the fan to turn towards us again. It was kind of nice just hanging out though since we didn't really have to do anything but despite that I still couldn't help but be curious as to what he's drawing.

We go to our other classes and don't see each other until lunch time. I just wait at our spot since I doubt I'd be able to find him if I moved. It's out in the sun and I'm dying in the heat here. But then a very familiar thing happens to me and I hear a voice next to me.

"You look like you could use an umbrella."

I turn to see him standing there with his heart lifting smile like from when we first met. You never see people with umbrellas during summer but I was surprised to find how effective it was. I made a mental note to always bring an umbrella with me.

But then he passes me his drawing book. It shows the completed picture he was drawing before. He really can make the strangest things look beautiful. The first thing that I noticed was the hazy, mirage kind of atmosphere around it. It was in a very hot environment but the heatwaves looked amazing and the whole atmosphere around it was beautiful. It then occurred to me what he meant before when he said that spring was too boring. Most of his drawings are about overcoming something; overcoming the gloomy, dreariness of rain, overcoming the freezing cold snow and in this case overcoming the heat. In the spring time there's nothing to overcome. But what surprised me about this picture was that it had people in it. The atmosphere was created by the people in it; there were some just hanging out with friends, some drinking cold drinks or swimming, but all being happy and enjoying life despite the heat. But even so, even through the positive atmosphere of overcoming the heat, there was a hint of sadness that I couldn't begin to describe.

The summer was a strange time. It was a lot different to the springtime and it was probably the extreme heat that caused that. It wasn't until after seeing his drawing that I realised how much more I enjoyed the summer and overcoming the heat. It's true what he said in a way, that it's the struggle that brings the story. If it weren't for the heat it would probably have been as bland as spring. Well, I still enjoyed spring though because it was still pretty to look at.

******

Spring.

What is this feeling? It hurts. It's not right. Why does it feel so wrong? It's like it brings back painful memories, but is also like I'm experiencing them again. What is going on?

I look down. I see a blank piece of paper. All I could do was stare at it. Nothing came to me. I don't know why but I could no longer draw. I was helpless to it. Isn't spring meant to be such a beautiful time of the year? Or is that why I can't draw? Am I useless to something that already is beautiful? Can I only draw things that aren't already perfect?

It frustrated me. I couldn't do anything. I was useless so I just sit there happening to exist. I follow her but really served no purpose. She seems stuck too though. Was it because of me? But then she starts speaking. I reply without thinking, but was surprised to hear what I said. Did I just say that I was against the peace?

She looked at me and from that brief glance I felt like she said something to me that really had an impact on me.

There are two sides to every coin. There's overcoming the bad and there's appreciating the good. Both are art, and both have their own story.

I suddenly came back to reality and found myself at home, staring at an empty page in my drawing book. I looked at my table and saw a small, empty book. I put my drawing book down and picked the other book up. It was peaceful so I thought I couldn't draw, but that wasn't the case. I had something else in mind.

Summer came, and it was as if life went back to normal. I was suddenly able to draw again and it felt good. I was so captivated by my picture, but I also could see how everyone else was taking it. I was the only one drawing, but that didn't bother me. The heat didn't bother me. It wasn't even something for me to overcome. I was somehow used to it. I finished it in my next class since nothing was really happening. Apparently it was quite hot today so nobody really felt like working or doing anything.

I walk to our usual spot and see her sitting there. My heart jumps and I suddenly feel great. I look to see an umbrella in my hand and instantly know what to do.

"You look like you could use an umbrella."

Saying those words brought great joy to me. It was such an amazing feeling even though I wasn't sure why. It just felt so...right. I showed her my drawing too, and it was such a nice day. I looked around seeing everyone else. They were all so happy and cheerful despite the lack of energy going around. It was a wonderful feeling. But then a thought went through my head.

You can't always rely on it. You still have something to overcome and it's not until then that you can fully understand art.

I find myself at home again. This time instead of my drawing book I saw a smaller one, the one I was using during summer. I started drawing again and it was a different feeling. This wasn't just a single picture; it was like I was drawing me. It had a kind of significance and was relatable to me on a completely different scale to my other pictures. It was like actual memories flowing onto the paper. But it was something that I could never seem to continue. Whenever I pick up the book I could never open it. Whenever I find myself on a blank page I can never draw on it. But whenever I do I can never remember it. It captivates me so much when drawing it that I'll never be able to see it until it is finished. It just develops over time, just like how I do.

******

Autumn arrives, and the heat finally ends. The leaves fall and the trees become naked again. At first it looked like he was struggling through the change in season but he seemed to adjust not too long afterwards. He didn't draw anything for a while but eventually started to work on something. I noticed that he tends to draw two kinds of pictures. He usually draws pictures to do with the weather and overcoming it but the other kind seem to have a different kind of significance and their own story behind them.

His newest picture was of a tree. The tree's leaves were all falling and the way that he drew it made it have the sad kind of beauty about it. The leaves all were individually drawn and each seemed significant it's own way and it was probably that, that made it have such an impact. The leaves each were held high on the tree but all have the same fate were they will exist there no longer. Every individual leaf will fall and become nothing more than the earth that we walk on. Every leaf with its own story, every single one is significant. I wasn't sure if that was the story that it was meant to tell but that was how I first took it.

But then it occurred to me that there was something different about it. It was like the opposite of some of his other pictures. This one was actually a picture of happiness. No one can understand a leaf. Maybe the leaves want to reach the ground. A leaf lives its whole life up in the air so maybe it wants to finally be able to live on the ground. It's the kind of change that we could never understand. His pictures were developing. They began to hold even more significance and tell more stories. He had changed. Even his art has changed. Although we may not speak much I could tell that he'd changed and was different to when I first met him.

Being with him was a lot like it was in spring but felt completely different at the same time. He seemed to have more presence than usual despite being a little lost due to the weather. He seemed to feel more like a human being and have the kind of significance of a true friend. He would sometimes be able to draw but sometimes draw a blank, but the thing was that either way I felt happy just being with him. It was like we were past the point where our understanding of each other came solely from our art. It was different because we connected on a different level than how we had before. It wasn't just that we had our moments but now I felt like we were always close to each other and connected. It was a rather strange feeling but since we rarely spoke I liked to tell myself that our relationship was something greater than that of the normal, physical world. But what I found stranger was that I was probably right.

It was no longer about the season, we were beyond that. Autumn passed and I honestly didn't notice. It wasn't until I saw the snow falling that I realised that we were back in winter. It was cold, but I didn't seem to mind. He was there with me, and it seemed to make me feel warm again. We both walked home huddled together under his umbrella. We went to my house and would draw while sitting around the warm fireplace. But it wasn't until then that I noticed his umbrella. It was the same one that he used when we first met. It looked different though, before it was plain white but now it had so much more to it. I couldn't tell if it was even white now, it had so much character and depth to it that a colour as simple as white didn't seem appropriate to describe it. It almost looked like it was sparkling, and that it had a mix of a whole bunch of colours in it. After all, white is every colour. It reminded me of art and growth, were you start with a plain white sheet of paper but then it ends up becoming a beautiful picture with its own character and story.

It was nice, being with him. But then, one day he didn't come to school. I didn't think that he got sick or anything because I had never seen him miss school before. It was very strange and as it happened a new feeling came over me, one that I had almost forgotten about. I felt alone. It was cold and as I walked to school I felt the icy chill of the wind as it rushed past me. I felt the cold of the snowflakes surrounding me and showering me with their lack of warmth. I could only sit in class staring outside at the icy world that I was soon to return to. I felt frozen and still, lonely and powerless, like everything suddenly disappeared. I felt lost and upset.

But then I thought about his pictures that he drew. He would overcome the cold, the rain, the heat. I looked out the window and thought of his pictures. It was as if the world changed. I felt a moment of revelation as I came to a new understanding of my world that I lived in. What I saw out the window was beautiful. The world suddenly looked like one of his pictures, where every detail had character and beauty. I finished class and walked home. The cold had all gone away, like it never existed to begin with. Everyone else was all huddled together in their layers of clothes, shivering and complaining but I no longer cared. The cold felt like nothing to me.

I saw a figure in the distance, waiting at the bus stop I take to school. It was him. He saw me and smiled. I was happy. I didn't know why he wasn't at school, nor did I care. I walked towards him and smiled. I heard him say something, although I didn't know if he spoke it.

"You would make a great umbrella."

And with his warm smile he turned around and we walked home to my house. He only had one thing with him, his umbrella. We walked under the umbrella the whole way home. Neither of us needed it but we still huddled together under it enjoying the warmth that it supplied us. It felt magical and I was lost in the moment. It was like I woke up as I suddenly realised that I was at home. There was no one else around but in my hand there was an umbrella.

******

Autumn. The leaves fell. It was the end of a cycle. The leaves were done with their journey in life and now went on to a new place. They no longer lived on the tree and had their old way of life. It could be said that they were to go on to something new and different but you could also argue that they are just going to start their cycle again and go back to being a simple leaf on a tree.

Perhaps this leaf will linger a little longer.

I felt like I had changed. I feel like I should have lost my purpose and drive in the autumn but haven't. I felt more present than I did before, and more like a living, human being. It wasn't even about the art anymore, it had become more than that. I wasn't like I once was. I had changed, but in a way that I couldn't understand. It felt very abnormal in a way though, like I wasn't meant to be like this. It was nice, but it looked like my cycle might soon come to an end.

Winter came before I knew it and the snow began to fill the ground and sky. I found myself sitting in my room, staring at the book that I had been working on. I had completely forgotten about it, but it was finally finished. It felt like a representation of my growth and development. I kept forgetting that it was there and it was making progress and before I knew it, it was completed and sure of what it was. I flipped through the book and finally understood why I was like this. I just sat there staring at the pages of the book, lost in thought. It was truly a strange thing. But then I noticed that in my other hand was the white umbrella that I used when I first met her a year ago.

I leave my room and walk along the icy street. I see the bus stop in the distance, and see a familiar figure standing next to it. She glowed with an aura that just filled the air around her. It was truly a sight to see. She stood there happy and cheerful despite the icy wind pushing against her from all sides. The cold didn't faze her as she had become one with the very nature itself. It filled me with such a warm feeling; the kind of feeling of a parent finished raising their child. As I looked at her only one thought crossed my mind.

"You would make a great umbrella."

We walked home, huddled together under the umbrella. Not a word was spoken between us, nor was one needed. We had both finally begun to understand each other as equals with a bond that wouldn't usually be shared between our kinds. As we were walking back I could tell that I was fading, that my time had come. I could no longer linger on as a leaf as the cycle was over.

I looked over at her as we were walking. She was lost in the moment too. She looked happy. I gently placed the umbrella in her hand without her noticing. I was fading fast. I saw her house in the distance. I walked into her house and looked around for one last time. I placed the book on the table and with that I existed in the world of humans no longer.

It was a truly wonderful opportunity that I had always wished for.

******

The fireplace crackled and a puff of smoke went up the chimney. There was a sudden shock as I realised that he no longer existed like he once did. I felt. It wasn't because of the weather, or anything like that, it was that something very important to me was taken away from me. I was alone, or at least that's what I first thought. I looked at the umbrella and saw a small note attached to it with a simple sentence on it.

"You look like you could use an umbrella."

I saw him in the umbrella. I saw his drawings and his growth. It was still white but in a way that you could see all of the colours coming together like a perfect painting. It was simple and perfect. I held the umbrella close to me and with a small sigh I looked down at the table, which had a small book open in front of me. I looked at the cover, to see just one word: "Umbrella".

I flipped it open and looked at the first page. It was a picture book written he made. The first picture was of the front door inside a house. It looked like it should have been a very simple picture but reminded me of my usual drawing in the sense that it wasn't just showing a door but had an aura around it that brought life into such a motionless boring viewpoint. He somehow managed to add the style of my strange, purposeless drawings into a picture to create depth and character to things you wouldn't usually expect. But it had more to it than that, it had a story. The door it showed was the front door of the house that leads to the outside world. There was a dirty mat on the floor on the inside, there was a coat rack with a hat and coat on it, but most of all there was a little basket directly next to the door that had an umbrella in it.

Even though the door was the center of the picture you could tell that the focus of the picture was the umbrella. It made you feel a bit sorry for it in a strange way, now that you realise where it has to live. It lives a life of standby, only ever getting to go outside when the weather isn't very pleasant. But it was due to the life of an umbrella that its perspective was so very different to normal people's. A cold, dreary day to a human is a day that an umbrella looks forward to. It lives its life in the coldest corner of the house, always feeling the weather outside whenever the door is even slightly opened. It's used to bad weather and doesn't even mind. In fact, it even likes the bad weather because it means that it gets used and gets to go outside and see the world. It's only when there's something to overcome that an umbrella truly gets to experience anything. Life on standby mode is simply boring.

It began to make more and more sense as I would look into the pictures of his book and understand the stories that it told.

It told the story of an umbrella.

The next picture was a very familiar one. It was like one of the first pictures that he drew, showing a beautiful spring day outside. But there was one thing different this time. It had the umbrella leaning against the windowsill looking out into the peaceful world. You couldn't tell the atmosphere that the picture had this time because it was like even the umbrella didn't know what to think at this point. It might have been curious of what it would be like outside on such a nice day but on the other hand it could be sad that the weather isn't rainy or snowing, wishing that it could just go outside at all. It seemed to have mixed feelings and not even know what to think. It was a strange picture to see, and to think that even an umbrella can have mixed feelings and be confused like that.

The next picture was in front of a fireplace. It looked so warm and peaceful and had the umbrella sitting next to the fireplace feeling its warmth. It looked lost though. It was experiencing the warmth that people are always after but couldn't understand what was so significant about it. Hot, cold, wet, dry, they all make sense to it but an umbrella wouldn't be able to truly understand their significance. Things are different as an umbrella, and things like that simply don't matter to it. It could only sit there confused and lost, wondering what the life of a human would be like, being able to see and experience the outside world. It would just stare at the fireplace, watching the wood crackle and burn as smoke went up the chimney.

But as if answering its call it tipped over and fell into the fireplace. It opened up and rode the heat from the smoke up the chimney. It found itself high in the sky, soaring over the house. It felt the cool, wind as it swept it in whichever direction it felt like. It felt like the snowflakes in the sky as they gently fell to the ground together. It kept flying through the sky as it gradually began to fall. It didn't know where it was, nor where it was going, but it was too happy and excited to care. It began to hover lower and lower and it saw a girl waiting for a bus on the side of the road. It flew past without her seeing it and found its way into a house.

The next page was just a blur of different colours and shades. It was the first time I had seen him draw something that wasn't a recognisable scene. There were a few pages like that which seemed to have a lot of different elements to them. There was a lot of confusion and mixed emotions throughout them. Some would show excitement and happiness, but some would show confusion and frustration. All of the blurred pages had a lot of feelings in them but also had a really good sense of time span, which was the only way I could think of describing it. It showed development and growth throughout a time frame which I had never seen done before pictures like this. Even though you couldn't tell what was happening in the pictures you still felt captured by it and into the story as it continued on. It was truly a unique experience.

After the blurred pictures I found myself in autumn. The umbrella was soaring through a gust of wind with the leaves that had recently fallen off of a tree. They seemed like friends in a way, like little kids playing and having fun. It was a lot like the picture he drew of the tree and leaves in autumn had a much more cheerful and heart lifting atmosphere around it. To see an umbrella having fun was such a strange, but nice sight to see. It was an umbrella not acting like an umbrella anymore. It had become something new. As much as it was still an umbrella it became something else as well. But like the other picture he drew the leaves had another meaning to them and that was that it was the end of a cycle.

His next picture was the very first picture he drew, a simple picture looking up at the clouds in the sky. I could have sworn that it was the same picture that he drew when I first met him but it had so much more to it than I remembered it having. It was the umbrella, looking up for one last time while it could see the open sky. Things change and the cycle would end, so it would have to go back to being an umbrella. And an umbrella wouldn't usually be out on a day like this.

The next was the second picture he drew, looking down at the footpath in the rain. They were two points of view that were very much from an umbrella. But it had a very nice atmosphere to it, and wasn't in any way sad. But it wasn't just that it was an umbrella that brought the atmosphere to it, there was something different about it. It was then that I noticed the one thing about it that I never noticed before. The person holding the umbrella, was me. The thing about cycles is that they don't end. A cycle ends at the beginning, so naturally the end of this story is where it all began; a sad dreary girl, getting cheered up by and umbrella.

I put down the picture book and looked at the umbrella. There was not a single word in it but it told a story that words couldn't even describe. To most people looking at the book it probably just looks like a collection of pictures someone drew but only a true artist could understand and feel the depth of the story and the significance that it has.

All I could do was sigh...

I walk to the bus stop the next day for school. It was cold and rainy, like the day we met. I was carrying my umbrella. I didn't even need an umbrella anymore. Like he said, I'd make a good umbrella and an umbrella can withstand any rain or snow, heat or cold.

It was no longer just a simple umbrella to me, and I could never look at it the same again. This umbrella I would bring with me everywhere. In a way, you could say that I thought of it as a friend, but that wasn't quite it. I could try to describe it, but it felt like something that doesn't exist in the world of words.

In the end, no one will be able to understand the special kind of bond that we share: that of a person and their umbrella.