Umbrella

The rain poured down viciously, brutally.

Every second hundreds of tiny little raindrops came in for the attack. My umbrella’s skill in deflecting them was impressive, I reflected, in a strange bitter sort of way. Too bad there were no umbrellas to help survive the torrential rainstorm of a social life.

Hundreds of people who were always wanting something, always attacking. One person wanting comfort and offering none in return, one person wanting a date but not caring whether you were interested or not, one person wanting to kill time but just until someone better is available, one person wanting your talent and keeping up the pretense of friendship only to pretend they were close to it, or to try and achieve a pale impression.

Too much, too many people.

I flung the umbrella away, down the street, and watched the blood red circle blow away into the distance, getting a twisted sort of calm in watching it bounce and fly away.

I am exposed. Exposed always.

The rain pounded down onto my head, into my eyes, mouth, and somehow up my nose. Hair clung unpleasantly to my face as I laughed, accidentally inhaling a good deal of water.

I guess this is what I get for trying to be so pretentiously metaphorical. I trudged down the street after my abandoned umbrella, one spot of bright red in a street full of damp grey, like a heart in the enormous, confining ribcage of this city.