It didn’t exactly solve all my problems. Hell, it didn’t really even solve the one it was supposed to; the rain still sprayed against my face and beaded against the plastic of my coat. It felt nice, though. To share this tiny reprieve from a tiny problem, even if it was with a complete stranger.

I eyed the stranger in question. Her hazel eyes were bright with excitement at seeing the world so utterly drenched. I couldn’t completely understand it—although perhaps I was rarely the right person to ask about something so whimsical.

I tried to see things the way she seemed to. Miniature rivers of rainwater pouring down into gutter grates, the light shining through the tinted umbrella to give her face a rosy glow. Another duo shared an umbrella the same way we did. I wondered if they knew each other. I wondered if they had the same question about us.

I was so lost in my contemplation, in fact, that when she stopped walking in front of the building I had indicated, I kept going, nearly banging my head on the edge of the umbrella.

Then I stopped. Turned towards the building’s big double doors. Turned back again.

“Something wrong?” She seemed genuinely puzzled at all of my turning and looking and sudden inability to walk.

“Well—um. Well, I just thought. That is, I—“

“I think we should do this again sometime.”

“What?”

“Well, I don’t mean walking around in the rain, obviously. Unless you want to, I guess.”

She asked if she could punch her phone number into my notes app, “just in case we ever wanted to meet up or anything.” I nodded, still feeling somewhat wrong-footed, and thanked her for the umbrella. We exchanged pleasantries, and then, just like that, she was walking away.

She kept her cool for about a block before cheering a little and pumping her fist into the air, laughing. I didn’t think I was meant to see.

I stood there for a little while. I felt the rain on my face. And I smiled.