I stood still in the rain, curled under my umbrella except for one hand outstretched, touching the raindrops as they fell past and ran through my fingers. Drip, drip, drip. I watched people rushing past me, ducking their heads away from the shower, or huddled together under whatever shelter they could find. I liked the rain, though. It was refreshing, and I liked to feel gloominess every so often, instead of being bright all the time. Buzz, buzz. I quickly wiped my hand off and pulled my phone out of my pocket, noticing the time, and then the message. Oh yikes… Late again. The manager wouldn’t be pleased. No, the manager wasn’tpleased, by the looks of the message. I splashed my boots one last time in the puddle before pulling myself together to rejoin the crowd of people flowing around me.

“Thanks,” a voice whispered in my ear.

Yikes… “Who… who are you?” I asked, whirling around to face the intruder. Um… Intruder of my personal space.

“A person in need of cover? Come on, you’re headed this way, aren’t you? Let’s go then,” the stranger decided, placing his hand over top of mine to keep a firmer grip on my umbrella.

My umbrella. “Ex-excuse me, sir? You’re saying that you… You’re a stranger then?” I asked. I couldn’t decide if I was too shy to share an umbrella with this stranger, or if I was too afraid to push him away.

“Yes.” Such a confident answer. I wasn’t sure how to reply to such frankness, so I didn’t.

Splish, splash. I couldn’t make up my mind to do anything, so I didn’t. Besides, what is he stole my umbrella? He was, after all, going the same way as me. And so I just marched forward in silence, occasionally, stomping down my foot in a puddle in my way. He did the same, without the puddle parts.

“Thanks,” he said again before suddenly disappearing into the crowd.

Well. I supposed that would be the last I saw of him.

—

“It’s these monsoon seasons, you know? They just come and go with such power. And I do hate carrying umbrellas,” he says, grinning at me, eyes shrinking.

“Who… who are you?” I ask, slowly retracting my wet hand and looking around at the crowd of people, then back to my other hand, the one trapped between the umbrella handle and his hand. Where did you come from?

“You don’t remember me? We shared your umbrella,” he says.

Yes. The bluntness of his words bring back the faint memory. “A year ago…”

“Nevertheless, it happened. Why don’t I you all the way to your destination this time? It was rude of me to run off last time. The least I could do is buy you a drink… Or give you my number.”

Once again, I don’t really do anything and just follow him. But this time, I smile.