Rain pattered on the soft fabric that made up my umbrella as I sat on the small, wooden bench. Water droplets puddled at my feet, soaking my ragged, black converses. The cuffs of my cargo pants were damp from cold rain. I nervously bounced my knee as I waited for the bus, that would hopefully take me far away from Annapolis.

My left hand fidgeted with the cuff of my army green hoodie, trying to sooth my nerves. Suddenly, my umbrella began to feel heavy before caving in and soaking my clothes, plastering them to my skin. I jumped up in surprise as cold ran through my body. Dropping my umbrella, I saw it was torn in a minimum of 4 places.

Sighing, I pulled up the hood of my hoodie, sitting back down on the bench, willingly letting the rain consume me. This was just fantastic.

Suddenly, a sweet, soothing voice spoke from behind me

“Are you okay Miss?,” a man’s voice asked? Turning around, I saw a boy holding an umbrella, who was older than 18. He seemed to have fluffy blonde hair, bright, sky blue eyes, and was wearing a plain, white T shirt, a bright blue rain jacket with ripped blue jeans.

“I…I’m fine,” I muttered, shivering, then turning back around. I wasn’t in the mood for sympathy from a stranger. But this particularly handsome stranger wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Sitting down beside me, he held his own umbrella over me.

“I’m sorry about your umbrella,” he offered apologetically, like he had torn my umbrella.

“It’s all right,” I replied in a whisper, thankful for shelter from the frigid, icy rain.

“So where are you heading?,” the stranger asked.

“Away from here,” I explained simply.

“You seem like a ‘cup-half-empty’ kind of person,” he inquired. I rolled my eyes, sighing quietly.

“You talk a lot, don’t you?,” I murmured sharply. The boy nodded, a happy and goofy look in his joyful eyes.

“Yeah. You have no idea how many people have told me that. People also tell me I’m the definition of an extrovert.” I pressed my lips together, glancing at my unknown companion.

“Never before have I heard anything more accurate,” I mumbled, crossing my arms. The stranger laughed a little, then stuck his hand out.

“I’m Wilbur,” he introduced with an adorable smile on his face. I stared at his hand for a split second and then gingerly grasped it, gently shaking it.

“Miranda,” I replied, quickly removing my hand from his grasp. Wilbur’s goofy smile still remained.

“It’s nice to meet you Miranda,” Wilbur confessed, grinning stupidly. I faintly smiled, looking down at my shaking hands.

Suddenly, the sound of tires made my head snap up. A large, boxy vehicle with navy blue strips running along the sides pulled up before the small wooden bench. My bus. I turned towards Wilbur.

“This is my bus,” I murmured nervously, looking down at my lap.

“Oh,” he whispered sadly. Suddenly, Wilbur perked up slightly, then rummaged around in his small backpack. Finally, he took out a fine tipped sharpie.

“Can I see your hand, please?,” Wilbur asked. I glanced down at my hand, then reluctantly lent Wilbur my right hand. He quickly scribbled down some numbers before letting my hand go.

“That’s my phone number,” he whispered sheepishly. “Not that you would need it, but, I mean, if you want it or-.”

“Thank you Wilbur,” I broke into his rant. “For everything, really.” My face started to become extremely warm all of a sudden. Quickly, I glanced at the bus.

“I need to go,” I mumbled, grabbing my soaked duffel back and standing up. “Bye Wilbur.” Wilbur smiled as he moved the umbrella back over his own head. Now it was merely sprinkling.

“Bye Miranda,” Wilbur replied, grinning his adorable, goofy grin. And this time, I smiled back. Not a huge smile, but I happy grin. I haven’t felt that in a while. Happiness. But, with Wilbur, it radiated. I wonder what it would feel like, being happy all the time.

Suddenly, a loud, harsh honk from the bus pulled up out of my daze to realize I was just staring at Wilbur. And he was staring at me. Now, my smile fleeted quickly. I put my hand up, indicating a wave towards Wilbur.

Turning around, I dragged my feet towards the bus, putting my AirPods in. I stepped onto the first step of the bus, walking in. The only seat left was in the far back, a single seat. All alone.

As the bus lurched forward, Wilbur waved at me sadly, sitting alone on the wooden bench while “As The World Caves In,” by Matt Maltese played solemnly in the background. I gently waved back at him until he was out of sight.

I sat silently for about a minute before pulling my phone back out again. I typed in the phone number on my hand, before then sending my new friend a message.

“Hi Wilbur”