The letter was sent

she never received it.

Why?

She walked through town

with a red umbrella

in her hand.

The umbrella,

yes, that's important.

Rain dropped with

loud thuds on the

red umbrella.

She held it

tightly in her hand

because of the wind.

A walk

around town

to walk her friend home

with a red umbrella.

The town was small

about 105 houses,

a small market,

and a gas station.

Mia's house wasn't far,

only two blocks away,

which is why she

walked with her

with the red umbrella.

On the way home

the clouds were still grey,

the streets were still empty,

and no sound was heard.

Was she alone?

On land,

yes,

but somewhere else,

somewhere above her

fingered gloves

gripped steering wheels,

pressed buttons,

and caused destruction.

Everyone had prepared

for the day like

this horrible one.

Mary.

Poor Mary didn't know

why it was quiet,

why no one was outside,

why she heard loud sirens.

Poor Mary didn't know,

she thought they were police.

She didn't know

until the plane came.

Until the engine

humming above her

was finally visible

through the clouds.

Until she saw the flag

of the enemy.

She ran.

She sprinted,

she flew,

she bolted.

Whichever you would

like to use to imagine

the sheer terror

Mary felt.

Poor Mary.

She ran

through the middle of the street

and when she turned

in front of her house...

In front of her safe house,

with a safe basement,

and with all the concrete walls.

In front of where poor little Mary

would be safe.

It dropped.

She never read the letter,

the surprise inside.

But her death sparked

war.

A world war.

A war for her.

When she met people

with stories of bombs and bullets,

she'd tell hers.

And they'd know,

they'd all know.

Because their stories

were because of her.

Because the enemy saw

the red umbrella.

She'd plead for

their forgiveness.

But they didn't mind.

They'd say,

"You gave us something

to fight for,

we care about you."

And she would be

happy.

She was filled with joy

the day she met

her mother again.

She wasn't alone.