It was a moody Sunday at its best. I walked with my sunglasses in the rain, while a stranger—referred to as 'Stranger' for the purpose of this story—held a tiny umbrella as shelter beside me. Inching the canopy towards the top of my head, I saw what Stranger did from the corner of my eye. “What a bold move,” I secretly noted. “I will pretend that I don’t notice a thing.”
I was aware of the water droplets dripping through the stilettos I had chosen to make light of the weather. The traffic light in front of me shone bright red, screaming, "Please stop right there! Not your turn, not your turn!" I noticed that one of my shoes looked wetter than the other.
At this point, I wasn’t too concerned with what Stranger was trying to do. Half of my face was covered thanks to the umbrella, while the other half became a medium for a semi-waterfall. Thunder roared from afar. Stranger’s body heat started to radiate like the start of a small bonfire. I was nonchalant yet intrigued—cold from the rain but warmed from curiosity.
Much to my surprise, I was more comfortable than excited. There was almost a tingling sensation in my stomach, but I wasn’t on the verge of umbrella-jumping. I was just waiting for the red light to change. I was enjoying the rain and the whole notion of being drenched. My voice was normally a whisper… did I just squeak?
I saw the sign before there was supposed to be one. I noticed the gentle dim of the traffic light’s bright red, slowly turning to yellow. It was not a matter of shying away; I was a coward who didn’t look like one. I was obsessing over everything that I knew and guessed, and when Stranger started to hand the umbrella to me, I ran across the street as if he were handing me poison.
It was a charming Sunday at its best. The rain was an ornament I got for being a loyal friend. Calling me from across the street, I saw what Stranger was trying to do from the corner of my eye. I hoped I didn’t taint Stranger’s view of another passerby with similar sunglasses and high heels. I hoped Stranger would still have the courage to be helpful to another stranger. Stranger might just be a stranger with an umbrella, but to me, he was the good, bold Stranger—intriguing while it lasted.
In my head, I repeated, “That’s a bold move, but I notice nothing.” Denial was the River in Egypt. While this story didn't literally happen—it was sunny that Sunday—there were hints and glimpses of truth.
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